


Mercury Unveiled

by Gcgraywriter



Series: Paneville [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Belonging, Birthmarks, Eye Sex, Eyes, F/M, Heartache, Mutual Pining, Princess & Garnderner, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, grey eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gcgraywriter/pseuds/Gcgraywriter
Summary: When Neville is summoned to the capital city as an apprentice to the great healer, Zabini, no one would have predicted the relationship between the lowly, clumsy aristocrat and the mysterious, cursed Princess. No one except perhaps the great healer himself.Princess Pansy is a cursed woman, forced to live her life behind a veil distancing herself from others. Until one fateful day in a greenhouse when a clumsy gardener sees beyond the veil. She couldn't possibly imagine where that one act of kindness could take her, nor what a lonely lord could do to cure her curse.Sometimes, the most delicate things bloom under the right attention.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Paneville [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721938
Comments: 38
Kudos: 30
Collections: Hermione's Nook RarePair Soulmate Fest





	1. The Great City

**Author's Note:**

> If you love Pansy/Neville, join us in the Paneville Support Group on Facebook. Also, keep your eyes open for the Panevi11e drabblefest coming November 2020.
> 
> A massive thank you to all the people taking part in the Hermione’s Nook Rare Pair Soulmate Fest! Your support, advice, motivation and just general camaraderie have been so needed and appreciated! I would never have written something like this without you guys!
> 
> And a special thank you to [ CordeliaOllivander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CordeliaOllivander/) who Beta’ed my piece and whose constant support and encouragement keeps me writing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! and please check out the other works in this collection because they've all sounded amazing as I've seen them being built. 
> 
> Please leave comments and let me (and the rest of us) know what you think x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names and easter eggs 
> 
> Arda – A green and fertile land North of Melanium known for its plants and also its herbs and medicines. (Tolkien link - Arda is also known as Earth where all the peoples of Middle-earth lived)
> 
> Southfarthings – A region within Arda which the Longbottom’s govern. (Southfarthings was taken from Tolkien’s LOTR due to the Longbottom leaf being a pipe-weed produced in the Southfarthings region of the shire.) 
> 
> Melanium – Island city where the Monarchy reside. (The Pansy is a hybrid plant from the Viola genus in the Melanium family)  
> Towers of Hortensis – So high it almost always rains/snows (Hortensis is another link to Pansy’s as this is the name of the tricolour variation)

There it was, the island city of Melanium, with its high spires half hidden in the clouds. He remembered the wise woman of his village tell him about the towers of Hortensis; about how some of them saw constant rain due to how high they reached. He had longed to see it since before he could remember wanting anything else. It felt like a longing ache in his heart, pulling him towards the great city. 

He clung to the ship’s mast as he watched the size of the island and its castle increase before him, hardly bothered by the way the waves rocked him back and forth. He had spent days watching the waves foam as they struck the bow as the sickness  
kept his head overboard. In front of such majesty, his previous unease lay forgotten. 

He didn’t think it was a particularly lovely looking castle. The proportions seemed wrong, as did the walls. It seemed all for show, as though they were less worried about the warring factions outside of their Kingdom and more about prying, nosy neighbours. He shrugged as he sank to sit and watch as they pulled into the harbour. There was a rightness about being here like an inescapable thirst finally being sated. 

He recalled other stories, of great knights and adventures of great glory and a mysterious Princess, cursed. He’d asked questions, as any child would, what wonders had the knights seen? What great deeds had they done? What was the curse? Was it gory and morbid? As he sat and remembered his avid questions, he wondered whether the Princess was real and whether she was indeed cursed. 

The bustle of the sailors on deck roused him from his reverie, as they shooed him below deck and out the way, laughing when he tripped down the stairs. 

He blew out a breath before picking himself up off the floor. There would most definitely be a bruise on his back now from where one of the steps had broken his fall. He winced as he tottered towards his cabin. They were still several hours away from shore yet and judging by the mutterings of the crew; the port might be busy, delaying them further. 

He shrugged to himself as he unlocked his cabin and pushed into his room. He locked the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed. He winced again as the pain in his back reminded him it was there. He rolled over gingerly and looked at the wooden ceiling. It wasn’t a large room, but it was still more significant than his own back home. 

His family were aristocrats from Arda, a land known for herbs and medicines. But even though he was noble-born, he looked like any other groundsman or ‘earther’ as they called them. His clothes were simple and in earthy hues, and his green-tipped hands and dark fingernails singled him out as a foreigner to these parts. 

He looked at the papers by his bed and picked them up, wanting to confirm what he had already read countless times previous. He gently opened the parchment to gaze at the elaborate lettering again. He was to tend the royal gardens and apprentice under the royal healer. The great healer himself, the Great Zabini had requested his presence. His presence to work directly for the royal family, the great family of Junonia. He shook his head again as the sickness returned to the pit of his stomach. 

He thought he knew what his lot in life would be. He would be the bumbling grandson to the Marchioness of Southfarthing, his parents having been killed during the Riddle rebellion when he was young. He thought he would spend his years amongst the plants, becoming a scholar, away from people. 

People were seldom kind to him; he was clumsy and awkward. Even his high breeding hadn’t been able to iron away all the kinks in his personality, much to the dismay of his grandmother. 

When the letter had arrived, she all but jumped for joy at the prospect of sending him out into the world to prove himself; To test his mettle in the name of the family.  
He folded the paper up again and sank back into the firm stuffing of his bed. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about this whole ordeal. His head told him that it was a terrible idea indeed, but something in his heart clung to the notion that this was the one place in the world where he would be able to make a difference. He rubbed his face as he listened to the organs argue until the toing and froing started to make him feel sick again. 

He rolled over and proceeded to lose his lunch into the bucket he’d left by the side of his bed. He wiped away the sweat at his forehead as he looked out of the porthole. He watched as the tops of building bobbed in and out of view. He shook his head as he turned away to fight nausea that threatened to rise. A deep croak came from a nearby cage.  
“I know, I can’t wait to get off this Junker either.” The toad was silent as it regarded him with its bulbous, orange, slit-like eyes, and he didn’t think that his pet was overly enamoured with the idea of being this far from home either.

“Come on you. We’d better get our things together so that we can get off as soon as we dock.” The toad croaked again as Neville climbed to his feet and tried to retain his stomach.


	2. A Vengeful God’s Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate Myth – According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.

“Is this really necessary?” She asked as she lay on her back, staring up at the stone ceiling. The silence was deafening as the man pulled and stretched at the skin on her face. Only the sensation of his breath on her skin and the pressure of his tools kept her still. 

“It is essential, milady. I must take measurements” Came the accented reply as the healer eventually pulled away. “Please do not move; I am almost finished.”

She rolled her eyes as she remained still. She closed her eyes as she waited for the examination to be over. She felt something cold and sharp press against her skin, but she wasn’t scared. It was yet another one of Zabini’s infernal contraptions. This wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last examination she would have to endure before her life was over. She felt another point at her neck and waited for his muttering to stop before she spoke again. 

“I fail to see how this is relevant. It never changes. It hasn’t changed since I was born. I will be marked until I die. Why do I have to be poked and prodded? It’s demeaning.”  
“Pansy, dearest flower. Shut up and let the healer work.”

“It is alright, your majesty, I am quite finished.” The healer said finally as the sharp points lifted from her skin. 

“What do your findings show?” The King asked from a chair to the side of the room. Zabini offered her his hand. She took it gently as he pulled her to a sitting position. She patted her dress down and replaced the veil that covered her except for her eyes. 

She loved and loathed the veil in equal measure. The curtain allowed her to hide from the world and to have the privacy, but it hampered her view of the world and the material trapped in the air causing her space to become stiflingly hot. She crossed her hands onto her lap and waited to be excused from the room. 

“Your findings, please?” The King asked again, more gently than Pansy expected. He wasn’t typically so gentle with underlings. Worry must hold his tongue; she thought as her eyes passed over to him. Surely it wasn't for her wellbeing as much as it was for her value in the eyes of others. The sacred families in particular. Families whose wealth and power could make or break a monarchy. She realised she had missed part of the conversation. She looked to Zabini the mysterious healer. 

“I will have to consult my charts, but I believe it has shifted, possibly even grown larger, without comparing it with older measurements I cannot be sure.”  
“Shifted? How?” The King demanded as he rushed to his feet. 

“I believe it has migrated further down her neck, but as I said until I can consult my notes, I cannot say with any certainty.”

“And did you hear my daughters claim? She is soon to be nineteen, and the mark hasn’t moved any time previous, why now?”

Pansy looked at the healer; his dark skin glimmered in the light as he moved between his apparatus. He was younger than any of the advisors they’d had previously. But behind his dark eyes lay a wealth of intelligence and cunning. He was also more thorough than the other healers they had employed. She reasoned that, as none of the previous healers had taken these measurements then the mark may have indeed moved, but she didn’t think that to be the case. 

He seemed to consider the question deeply before speaking again. The air filled with a pregnant pause before he finally relented and answered. 

“It could be many things. In my experience, I have come across similar marks which can roam the body with no real reason. Some people believe that the person’s soul haunts the body of another, causing the discolouration. Sometimes the soul of a loved one not wanting to let go of their links to this world, others due to a violent act and this victims soul clings to the one who wronged them.” 

He paused for a moment as he glanced at the Princess again. “Obviously this doesn’t fit the symptoms shown here. However, other stories state that once fate has marked you, a change in the mark can change to indicate a specific course of action. As though fate is steering.” 

The healer paused again as if deciding that what he had to say was important. “In my own country, there are tales of the first people back before Kingdoms and nations. The first people were complete, joined together as one being. These whole beings were a threat to the great gods who created them. 

So in a vicious rage, the god tore them asunder, separating one half from the other. Once separate beings, they were no longer a threat, but the vengeful god remained unsatisfied. In a final act of spite, he whipped up the great storms and scattered them across the lands, cursing them to wander alone, looking for their counterpart for all eternity. The mark is believed to be evidence of the wound inflicted by the vengeful deity.” The healer finished as he looked at Pansy. 

“And you don’t know which this could be?” The King asked sternly. “Or whether it is curable?”

Zabini’s gaze lingered on her before turning back to the King. He shook his head. 

“I cannot say with any certainty. I have some theories I would like to look into, which may help, but at the moment, I am unable to advise further.” He said finally. There was another pregnant silence in the room that was only punctuated by the gentle patter of rain on the roof. 

The King motioned for Pansy to stand, which she did without hesitation. She nodded her head to the healer as she followed her father out of the room.

“I wish to hear of any findings as soon as you discover them.” The King said without turning.

“Yes, of course. My liege.” Zabini nodded as he bowed slightly. 

Pansy stepped through into the stairway and waited for their guards before she started to descend the stairs. She wanted to ask questions, but she knew better than to mention anything before the soldiers. Gossip could bring down a Kingdom. You didn’t discuss private matters out in the open. 

They were led toward her chamber and once alone inside, she turned to her father.

“What say you?” She asked as she removed her veil. She watched as her father cringed and averted his eyes from her. It brought her a perverse sense of joy to see him squirm. She spent so much time hiding her face and being told what to do; it made her happy knowing that she could disobey him in such a small way. 

“Put the veil back on, child.” He hissed as he raised his hand to ward her off. “What if someone was to see you?” 

His reaction hurt more than she would let him see. She had remained the unseen Princess since her birth. Rumours of curses and abnormalities had spread throughout the Kingdom, meaning suitors were few and far between. 

It was an awkward feeling to decipher. Pansy didn’t care that suitors didn’t come as she had no desire to be married, but she cared because it meant that no one cared enough about her to enquire. 

She was a Princess, but she refused to be sold off like cattle. The suitors that came, only came to gawk and confirm the rumours but were immediately disappointed when they saw her veil. She felt so alone in the world, hiding from even her father, knowing that even her own kin believed her tainted in some way. 

She was ‘Touched’. It’s what they called it. A witch had begged an audience days before her birth and had foretold of such a mark, a soulmark — a fate brand. 

One who faces the reign  
Marked by fate to be reclaimed  
To be owned by marks of destiny granted  
Linked to the heart of the earth. 

The way the prophecy read made it sound like she was being sold into slavery; reclaimed by some ground goblin. A life of subservience was not something that Pansy was suited to - Mentions of ownership and reclaiming. 

The witch had been fed and sent swiftly on her way; however, the woman's warning had fallen heavily on the King. Links to the heart of the earth – it only fed into his insecurities that the problems were due to her and her blemish; and unless someone claimed her, then the misfortune would continue. 

He, as most of the Kingdom, believed that she was cursed to bring destruction. She could see the look of disgust and mistrust in his face when he looked at her. She left her veil off in rebellion. If she had to bear this mark, then he would have to see it. 

She jutted out her chin in defiance as she stared him down “I ask again, what say you, father? Am I cursed to roam alone, or does fate steer me?” She stepped closer to him before she spoke again “Or perhaps I am the harbinger of misfortune and misery.” 

“Currently you are less harbinger than deliverer. I said to replace your veil daughter, do not defy me.” She stood her ground for a moment longer before she did as she was bid. “I will leave you to your thoughts. I can see that this news has distressed you somewhat. Excitement may cause it to spread, so please calm yourself.”

She rolled her eyes as he left the room. However, now that she was alone, the words of the healer returned. She walked to the window and sat at her favourite perch as she looked out to sea. 

Was her counterpart wandering around in the world looking for her? Is that why she longed to sail away? Or was that as a result of being so protected and stifled? She couldn’t be sure. And if it were her counterpart, would ownership be so terrible? 

She leant against the wall as she looked down into the walls of the city. There was something different in the air tonight. Like something was coming, calling to her. She could feel it like a song in her head. She watched as the ships sailed in and out of the harbour and dreamt of being stowed away, bound for far off lands. 

The thought that there could be someone out there waiting for her; Her spiritual equal and her opposite. She wasn’t sure whether that was a more liberating or more stifling idea. The way that Zabini had phrased it certainly made it sound better than the cattle brand and spiritual ownership she felt the prophecy promised. Because of course if he owned her, then she would also own him, being his equal too. 

Her thoughts turned to the enigmatic healer. Before his arrival less than a year ago, no one seemed to know anything about him. Some said they he had wandered the Orez desert looking for rare plants for his tinctured, whilst others said that he was a vagabond from 

She turned from the window when the clouds threatened to gather. She hated the rain.


	3. Unexpected Connections

He loved the rain. Loved the fresh cold sensation as it struck his face and cooled his glowing cheeks. After what felt like an eternity on the ship, it came as a great relief to plant his feet back onto firm soil. He felt like his feet could reconnect to the energies of the earth, cleaning his abdomen of the ills of sea travel. 

He could smell the salty sea air, now mingled with the wild grasses and blossoming vines that climbed the high city walls. He looked around him, taking in all the sights he could. The market stalls hocKing their wares as shop keepers opened their doors for the first sales of the day. 

Calls and cries filled the air, someone selling some baked good, fresh from the oven, whilst someone else advertised a new range of cleaning products. It was so much busier than life back in Arda. He gripped his bag to his chest as he carried the cage with his warty companion in, wandering carefully towards the castle. 

“Move out the way.” A woman called as she barged past him, her arms loaded with lobster cages from the harbour. 

“Do you mind?” Asked an elderly gentleman angrily as Neville jumped out of his way. The older man stumbled past him at speed towards the castle. He was obviously walKing much too slow for the crowds here. He tucked himself off to one side as he tried to calm his jittering nerves.

This has been a terrible idea. Maybe he should just turn around and get right back on the ship and go home. However, the thought of stepping back onto the junker filled him with unease again. He didn’t think he’d ever sail again. 

“Neville?” Came a voice at his elbow. He jumped, causing the jostled toad to croak in complaint. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Neville swore as he gripped his heart. 

“I am sorry,” The dark man chuckled as he watched. 

“I, yes, I am Neville. Hello,” He said as he tried to swallow down his pulse. 

“I am Zabini.” He said calmly. Neville felt his pulse stop for a moment before speeding up again. He looked at the man. They were both about the same height, but Zabini looked slimmer and willowier than he had ever done. His grandmother had told him he had eaten too many daisy cakes ever to be considered attractive or thin. 

The darker man’s robes were a deep blue, and Neville knew that the dyes to make such a colour were both rare and expensive. Woad plants were rare this far south. The colour and material told him more than any further conversation ever could about this man. Here was a man who liked beautiful and expensive things and liked reminding people of the fact. 

Neville looked at the man and suddenly felt so out of his depth. How did he talk to this man? Did he offer his hand? Did he bow? As though reading his discomfort, he smirked and nodded his head. Neville followed suit and smiled back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m unfamiliar with the etiquette here.” The darker man nodded again and smiled knowingly. 

“That should be of no concern. You will be working for me. Renown of your abilities in herbology and botany is well known to me. I knew your mother; we fought together at the battle of the hollow.” His eyes seemed to soften as he studied Neville. 

Neville looked down at his feet for a moment. He always found it strange to talk to people that knew his parents, when he knew so little of them. 

“Your mother’s skill in herbology was unparalleled, and I hear that your father was very skilled in meteorology and earth sciences also. I am hoping that you have inherited their talents as the work I do is critical.”

Neville nodded as he felt his stomach drop to his feet. Yes, he was satisfactory in botany and at least respectable in herbology, his knowledge of earth lore, nor the weather had ever been tested. He sent a silent prayer to whichever celestial body was floating nearest that he would be able to succeed here. If he wasn’t able to at least survive here, then his options were limited. 

“Why am I here?” Neville blurted. He felt his face heat from within and saw the older wizard smile. 

“Well, first, I shall escort you to the castle and get you settled in, and there I shall show you the work we aim to do.” Neville nodded as he looked down at his feet. “Shall we?”   
Zabini led the way, gliding along the dusty path in his azure robes. There was a strange grace in the way he walked, a particular gait that made him seem almost regal. Neville wondered whether he was a high born too or whether it was something that he had learned when he had trained to before a healer. He knew he would never possess the same grace, even after a lifetime of training. 

“Tell me about yourself, Neville” Zabini asked as he reached for the toad. Neville watched as he handed over his toad and found he didn’t have much to say. He rarely liked talking about himself. 

“You probably know more about me that I do. You knew my mother, after all.”

“Ah, Alberta said you were modest.”

“Y-you know my grandmother too?” Zabini grinned, his eyes glinting mysteriously. 

“I know a good many things and a good many people, Neville. It would be wise to remember that.”

Neville closed his mouth and swallowed as they began trudging up the hill. “I wish to hear more about you from your own lips, tell me, what do you like to do?” He said again, 

“Do? Erm, I read. I er, I like spending times with my plants. I have a little hothouse, well, had a hothouse back in Arda, but I doubt I’ll see it again.”

“You do not wish to return home?” Zabini seemed surprised. 

“My grandmother told me that this would be a life-long position.” He didn’t add that she had told him, in no uncertain terms that if he were to fail in his duties, then he would not be welcome back. 

“I hope for it to be. I believe that you will find happiness here. There are plateaus with hothouses and private gardens specifically for the kitchens and another for the healers. It will be your job to help tend both. 

Neville nodded, feeling the unease settle slightly. If there was something he knew he could do, it was tending plants. They didn’t talk back or laugh at him, and they seemed to appreciate the gentle care he could provide. 

“There will also be training for you in meteorology and the earth sciences, we can see whether any of your father's talents rubbed off. You will also help me create tinctures and decoctions from the flowers in the healer's gardens to restock the royal apothecary.”

He felt the dread intensify, and he couldn’t keep it to himself. 

“I find myself duty-bound to tell you that I have never been successful at brewing healing potions. My previous tutor found my skills lacKing.” He slowed down as he expected Zabini to turn him around and send him back on his way. 

“Snape was a taskmaster, even back when we studied together. I’m sure that with the correct schooling we’ll have you concocting and distilling with your eyes closed.” 

Neville rushed to catch up again. He couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe it had been a good idea to come here. Zabini seemed to know what he could and couldn’t do and was willing to train him. The thought of learning more secrets from the plants he grew tempted him beyond belief. 

“Now come, It will be supper by the time we reach the castle, and you will need to dress appropriately.


	4. Blood's Electric

Pansy circled her room again for what felt like the thousandth time. She felt nervous energy running through her veins. She didn’t think she would be able to stop if she wanted to.

“Please, daughter, think of the tiles.” Her mother’s voice came as she sat sewing in her chair by the fire. They often spent evenings together. Her mother believed that she could pass on skills like sewing and music whilst Pansy’s only motivation was to avoid the loneliness of sitting in her room on her own. She had ladies in waiting; however, they were usually the worst source of gossip for the court. She didn’t have friends. Her parents believed that word of her ailment would get out if she had friends. 

She felt an overwhelming wave of loneliness and a peak in energy forcing her from the chair she had perched on. 

“I seem unable to stop.” Pansy replied “It’s like lightning running through my blood. I have to keep moving.” 

“ I understand dear. Master Zabini’s talk of your-” she waved her hand to her veil as if by merely mentioning it, it would make her affliction more real. “I hear it has shifted?”

“Or grown.” Pansy sang cheerfully despite her emotions feeling the opposite. She always knew the best things to say to get a rise out of her mother.

“Pansy! Don’t say that, I beg you.” She touched her chest and muttered a silent prayer before speaKing again. “I couldn’t bear it. It’s bad enough that it mars your beauty, But it steals your future. No one will want a bride with-” she waved her hand again at her face. 

“I know, Lord forbid that anyone should like me for my keen intellect or my sparkling personality.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. 

“No one gets to know the cake before they eat it. The important thing is that it looks good.” Her mother replied as she returned her attention to her sewing. 

Pansy ground her teeth as she held back her response. Her mother wasn’t the one who had to sit and stare into the mirror and see the angry, red welt across the side of her face. Nor was she the one who had to hide from everyone to ensure that no one saw her imperfection. 

She would often sit before the mirror, staring at the millions of tiny, veins beneath the skin creating the scarlet streak across the right side of her face. It looked like red wine swirling in water which had frozen in angry red swirls. She hated looking at herself, but surely it was her mother's job to overlook the external. But she had always been told that on one would love her while her face was marked. 

She and her parents had spent so many years trying to find a cure for the ailment. So many masters had come and had tried to cure her disease. All had failed. .She turned back to her mother and tried to keep the smugness out of her voice. 

“who knows, It may have grown. Zabini said he would check the charts to be sure.”

“Please, daughter.” Her mother held out a hand to quiet her. “You are giving me a headache.” It was only after she stopped that she realised that she’s been pacing again. She didn’t know why her veins were suddenly electric. 

“I’m going for a walk.” She announced sullenly as she turned to leave. 

“What a good idea.” Her mother sighed, and she could hear the relief in her tone. “If you feel that it will ease your nerves. Just be careful to avoid the servants, you know how they love to gossip.”

Pansy nodded and rolled her eyes. She didn’t need telling, her experiences where enough to make her wary of others. The servants always seemed to know every morsel of news or rumour in the castle. 

She left her room as though carried by the air. She felt a shortness of breath seem to consume her as though she was drowning. She placed her hand to her chest to hold in her beating heart. Maybe she had been poisoned? It wouldn’t be the first threat of it. She didn’t think it was, but she was at a loss as to what was causing her sudden burst of frantic energy. She almost ran down the steps to the first of the plateaued gardens. She stood for a moment to take a deep breath, hoping that it would sate the trapped sensation within her. 

It did nothing. Pansy started to walk and pace, anything she could think of as she ignored the evening beauty around her. She took a few more deep breaths and began to feel like something in her was settling. She felt relief as she sat on the bench next to a sizeable flowing bush. 

The fresh smell that engulfed her made her sigh; she had always loved the scent of jasmine. The delicate white flowers filled the air with their perfume as the calm evening wind caught her robes. She longed to be able to strip off and stand naked for the air to engulf her. She felt like the craving she was fighting was freedoms call. 

She was just about to stand when she heard voices. She remained seated as she listened, her position obscured by the jasmine. 

“This is the final garden, and this is the Princesses garden. She rarely uses it, but sometimes her maids will sit here if the weather is fine. If you are to see the Princess, you are not to make eye contact and may only speak if spoken to.”

“The Princess?” the other voice asked. Pansy recognised Zabini’s voice but the different voice sounded strange and foreign to her ears. 

“Yes, Princess Pansy, I’m sure you’ve heard the name?”

“I have, however, I’ve never seen her likeness, how will I know it is her?”

“She wears a veil across her face,” Zabini replied flatly. 

“Oh, why?” The foreigner asked. 

“The Princess is shy and prefers her privacy; The King prefers that only the eyes of her future husband will see her.”

“Ah, right.”

Pansy stood and rolled her eyes, how she would love to see the look on their faces if she decided to strip off and step out in front of them. 

She leant forward to catch a glimpse. The man stood at tall as Zabini but was stockier and softer. Nothing that the many steps in the castle wouldn’t cure. She gazed at his face and felt that his face looked kind. She felt her face tingle as though hot and touched her hand to her brow, letting the sweat soak into her veil. 

“What are the Princess’s favourite flowers? I’ll make sure to give them my special attention.” Asked the man again. 

“I believe it is the Jasmine but do not trouble yourself. You will probably not meet the Princess as she rarely leaves her quarters. 

“That’s a shame, isn’t she lonely?”

“It is not for us to question how she wishes to live her life.”

“My apologies.” The man replied. 

She observed in the dimming afternoon light and decided that she would keep an eye on this gardener.

She waited for them to leave the plateau before returning to her rooms. As she sat down, she realised that the nervous energy of before had entirely disappeared. Her face continued to tingle, but it was probably just where the wind has pressed against her flesh. 

Her mother had left her rooms already, returned to her own and as she was alone, she decided that she would remove her veil and look at her face with the blemish for a change.   
She stared at the mirror; her bobbed, black hair framed her face and the mark that marred her beauty. Her grey eyes stared out of the mirror at her and seemed to shine in the candlelight. She thought of the garden and nodded to herself. She was lonely, and she knew that no one in their right mind would want to spend time with this face. She covered her face again before she turned to go to bed.


	5. Blinking Lights in the Inky Black

Neville lay looking up at the ceiling cursing the universe for the fact that he was still awake. His head was thudding like a stallion riding at full pelt. He had felt the same all day but had put it down to his nerves, and also the steep walks. He had expected for his head to hit the pillow and for sleep to take him without a second thought, however, the exact opposite had happened. 

He now lay staring at the whitewashed ceiling wondering what to do to relieve the energy pent up in his veins. He rolled out of bed and stood up, savouring the cold stone floor beneath his feet. He had missed that sensation when he’d been on the ship. The wood had always been warm. 

He looked out the window and took a deep gulp of fresh, cold air. He felt it cool his lungs and cleanse him from within before he released it. The palace seemed to be as silent as the grave in the many floors below and above his own. 

He needed to be outside, needed to feel the movement of that air against his skin. He followed the short corridor to the healer's gardens and luxuriated at the feeling of the grass under his bare feet. He felt like he could almost feel the pulse of the world throbbing through and around him as he tried to centre himself. 

He didn’t think he had ever been anywhere so high before. His homeland was all rolling hills and valleys. There were no hilltops in all of Arda that would come close to the mountain that this castle had been built upon. 

The wind whipped around his sandy hair as he stepped out into the chilly night. He could hear crickets chirruping somewhere in the garden, and something was snuffling in the Flitterbloom bush to his left. He walked on, needing to be at the edge of the world. Once as close to the ledge of the plateau as he was willing to get, he looked out. The palace was surrounded by an inky blackness as far as the eye could see. The sky already looked like it was starting to lighten off in the east telling him that this outing would soon come to an end. 

Pinpricks of light surrounded the base of the castle before the walls became visible with their blazing torches. Neville looked up and saw the stars mirroring the world below. He carefully stepped away from the ledge and lay down. The crip cold grass tickled his skin as his weight pressed him into the soft ground. 

He finally started to feel the energy dissipate as if seeping into the ground. It had always had that effect on him. Without having a mother’s arms to compare it to, he often thought of it as a close substitute; an instantly comforting embrace that could soothe most worries and calm one’s soul. 

He heard movement somewhere above him and turned his head slightly. A figure stood gazing down at him from one of the gardens above. The figure was shrouded in darkness and material, making it almost impossible for him to make out. He felt an odd affinity for the person as if being out in the gardens in the middle of the night connected them deeply. He knew that the person was looking at him even though they face and eyes were hidden. 

He slowly, and reluctantly climbed to his feet as his body started to feel fatigues with the sudden lack of energy. He nodded to the figure before he retreated to his room. Back in the stuffy confined of his room, the energy returned slightly, however not enough to keep sleep at bay this time. 

As soon as his head touched the pillow, he drifted off into a fitful sleep. 

If he dreamt, he had no recollection of it when the sun poured through his window. It felt like all he’d done was blink, and suddenly it was morning, any dreams burned off by the morning light. He groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes as a knock came at his door. 

“Neville? Are you awake?” Came a voice at his door. “It’s Zabini, are you decent?” he called through the wood. Neville nodded and then, feeling foolish, said out loud to enter. 

“Good morning, I trust you slept well?” 

Neville nodded even as a yawn racked his body. 

“I thought that we could take breakfast together before I go through your duties.” Neville nodded again and stood up. 

“Sounds great.” He nodded. 

“Wonderful, I shall give you a few moments to get ready and then I shall come and collect you. I have left your new clothes on the side here, if you need anything further, we can sort that today.”

Neville nodded again and smiled as Zabini left the room. 

Neville looked at the clothes and wondered whether there was a colour code to the clothes here. The tunic Zabini had left him was the same azure blue of his own robes. Maybe it was to signify who you were an apprentice too. He would have to ask when Zabini returned.


	6. Eyes of Suspicion

Once again she lay looking at the ceiling of Zabini’s rooms, counting the rings and the wood of the panels above. She knew that something was wrong when Zabini paused when he had approached her with his tools. He had looked at her and tilted her head this way and that before making some notes in his books. His lips pursed and paled as he pressed his cool measuring tools into her skin. She closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. 

It seemed to take longer this time as she felt the tools push into the spaces below her chin. He had never had to poke there before. How could something move so far after only a week? She didn’t want to see the pale look on her fathers face and hear the mutterings for the courtiers as they scurried around the palace like beetles. 

Lord Zacharias had already arrived from Sakir, spreading stories of blights and droughts and had insinuated that the Princess was cursed. There was never anything that could be proven; however, the court was always much icier when he was visiting. She felt a stab of dislike at the foul creature. They had been playmates when they had been younger, and there had been talk of marriage; however, in a weak moment, she had shown him her face and ever since he had feared her. 

She took a deep breath as she tried to put the cockroach from her mind. 

“I am almost finished, Princess,” Zabini replied quietly as his face was inches from hers. She quirked her lips and acknowledgement as she waited. He poked her another half a dozen times before he helped to a sitting position again. 

He began furiously scribbling into his book before talking to anyone in the room. 

“Well?” Asked the King. He sounded irritable and impatient as he paced the floor. 

“One moment, if you please, your majesty,” Zabini said as he continued to make notes. 

Pansy watched the healer as the quill danced across the page, an elaborate swirl of bright colours. He threw the feather down and stood up to grab another book from the shelves before returning and maKing yet more notes. 

Zabini slammed the weighty tome down and flicked through the pages as he frantically looked for a particular reference. 

“Your findings, now Zabini.” Pansy looked at her father and realised that he was afraid of Zabini. Something about the learned man unnerved him. 

“Of course, your majesty.” He turned around, the quill still writing furiously on the page. “I believe that the mark is magic in origin and that something has triggered the spell. The mark has shifted again, this time it creeps down her neck, it was not there last we spoke. Something is triggering these changes in the spell.”

“Are you telling me that my daughter is cursed?” The King asked through gritted teeth. 

“No my lord, merely that there is very powerful magic worKing and that through magic we may be able to find the cure, we just need to find out what the magic is reacting to.”

“And how do you propose we do this?” 

“I’m not currently sure. Perhaps a diary?”

“A diary?” Pansy asked 

“Yes, a journal, noting down if you feel any movement, whether there is any pain or discomfort, whether you feel it during the rush of a particular emotion or thought. If this is magic, and I believe it is, then there will be something that will trigger it. 

“So, we are still none the wiser.” The King growled. “I am beginning to grow tired of your inability to resolve my daughter’s ugliness. Her youth is fading as are her chances to find a suitable marriage.”

“I assure you, sire, we have learnt a great deal today. We know that it is magical and that there is a trigger for it. Once we know what the trigger is, we will know what kind of magic we are dealing with.”

The King turned to her, and she felt his eyes bore into the top of her head. “I am relying on you to complete this diary with as much vigour as you can muster. We must have you married to a good family to ensure we have an heir to the throne. Do not disappoint me, daughter.”

Pansy nodded but rolled her eyes as soon as he turned his back. She had heard this speech so many times before that it now failed to impress.

“And which family would you marry me off to, father?” She asked, her temper getting the best of her. 

“Well, I would send you to Sakir to put an end to those treacherous bastards.” She paused before she turned to look at him. She didn’t think that the veil would be enough to hide her loathing. 

“Lord Zacharias is to be my intended?” She asked slowly. 

“Indeed, I believe that you are well suited, and it would ally us with a mighty and ancient family.”

“If you insist on this course, I insist that I remain as I am. I will be as distasteful to Zacharias as he is to me.” 

“Daughter!” He warned.

“No, father! I understand that I have to marry a noble and that I must marry; however, I refuse to marry that-that-” Words failed her as she thought of his horse-like face and mop of straw-like hair. “I would rather fling myself from the highest tower than be wed to that.”

“Then I had better prepare your funeral. As you will be married to him whether you like it or not. You do not have suitors breaking down the doors to marry you. And if you were to fling yourself from the tower, it would save me having to sacrifice you to appease the gods as is being demanded.”

“Sacrifice?” Zabini chimed in, his eyes wide with worry. Pansy stood staring at her father as though he had sprouted a second head. 

“Indeed, master healer, It has been petitioned that we sacrifice my daughter to the gods to ease the suffering within the Kingdom.” 

“But that- there is no need!” He argued.

“I know, but if we do not cure this curse, I will have no choice but to hand you over to Zacharias and his kin.”

“And you honestly believe that I will survive in his company, mark or not, as soon as I am beyond these castle walls?”

“It is a concern,” Pansy felt a slight tremor start in her core at the thought. Her parents were getting ready to send her to the slaughter. 

“My death is merely a concern? And you are seriously considering this as a good option?” Pansy asked, as her voice broke.

“It’s not ideal” The King answered finally. “But we are running out of options.” 

She stood, the slowness of her actions belying the panic and desolation in her core. She turned with equal care and walked towards the door. She didn’t want to be in the same room as a parent that could throw her away without a second thought. 

“Daughter, return this instant.” Growled the King from behind her — his calls dying off as the door swung shut. 

She ignored him as she pushed through the corridors and ran as the tears blurred her vision and wet her veil. She found the greenhouse and pushed into the furthest corner she could find. She needed somewhere that she could unmake herself so that she could fall apart. The walls she built around herself needed to collapse before she could let out her emotions. 

As she sat between the glass and the potting tools, she felt so alone. Maybe throwing herself from the tower wouldn’t be such a bad idea. She heard a noise and looked up. Her heart fell to her feet, and her distress forgotten as she met the owner’s hazel eyes, her face tingling in surprise.


	7. Tears and Shrivelfigs

It was strange how so much time could pass in no time at all; he thought as he clipped at the plants. A whole month had passed since he’d first arrived, but it felt like no longer than a week. He was now left alone for the majority of his duties and only saw Zabini when it was time for his training. His main job was to tend to the plants in the various hothouses and gardens and to collect specific cuttings and samples for potions and salves. 

He had been taught well enough in Arda to avoid sentient plants, especially as one almost killed him as a child. He still bore the scars. There were a few such plants dotted throughout the greenhouses, and he was careful to mind them when they felt like fighting back. He felt secure with the agapanthus that he could make it through without being maimed. 

He liked it in the hothouses, surrounded by plants that were both exotic and beautiful. The deep reds and purples caught his eye and stoked his imagination. He thought of far-off, hot regions where sand covered the ground instead of the fertile soil of his homeland. He sometimes longed to travel to such places if only to see how plants could grow in such climbs. Then possibly learn the secret magic that made them so beautiful. 

He wondered whether it was only in the most deprived placed that such beautiful things could grow; Whether these plants thrived on the lack of a particular something, whether it be water, soil, or some other necessary ingredient causing them to become so much more spectacularly. As he pondered, he wondered whether the same could apply to people? 

He didn’t think so, but he did wonder all the same. He shook his head as he narrowly missed a reaching vine from one of the other plants. He slapped at it and then watched as the green arm recoiled. 

“There,” he said to himself as he finished trimming the dead off the plant and was about to turn to the next when he heard something. He turned to the direction the noise had come from, trying to work out whether it was another wayward vine or whether he was no longer alone. It sounded like a scuffing noise, infrequent and short like a hiss. He put the sheers in the pocket of his tunic and crept slowly into the maze of plants to investigate. 

It stopped, and Neville froze, his limbs stuck in mid-motion as he waited for the noise again. Nothing happened, so he lowered his partially raised foot and went to turn back to his bench. The noise happened again, but this time it sounded like a sniff. He looked over his shoulder and tried to see between the green leaves but could see nothing. He wandered closer, wondering whether he would find once he found the source of the noise. 

Once he was close to the wall of the greenhouse, he lifted a veil of dangling leaves and saw the hem of a green dress. He moved the curtain to one side and gazed at the woman who sat there. He knew that it was a woman when he saw the veil. His mind froze for a second as he considered who it could be. His eyes met hers, and he felt his heart stutter and his chest tingle. He cursed inwardly as he realised that he was meeting her eyes. It was a punishable crime. He tried to look away as his panic rose. He’d been warned in no uncertain terms that to talk to her unbidden resulted in instant dismissal. He opened his mouth automatically before shutting it again. Red-rimmed grey eyes looked up at him warily, and Neville felt something in his chest. He couldn’t leave her here crying. 

He silently rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it out to her wordlessly and waited for the Princess to take it. The Princess froze as she looked up at him, and he wondered whether even this silent gesture was against the law. 

Slowly she reached up and took the cloth before dabbing at her eyes. 

“Thank you.” She muttered, almost too quiet for him to hear. He nodded his head and turned to go. “Wait, you’re the new apprentice aren’t you?” 

He froze as his mind raced to work out what to do. The Princess was talking to him, could he now respond? He turned around and looked at her nervously. As if sensing his anxiety, she sighed and looked down, then dabbed at her eyes again. 

“You are allowed to talk to me as long as I permit it,” He nodded as if he understood, however, he still felt hesitant. What if she decided to have him punished? They were alone with no one else to admit or deny what happened. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, hoping that he was making the right decision. 

“I am, Your highness,” He nodded nervously, answering her question. She sighed with relief as if people talKing to her was a rarity. 

“And what do people call you?” She asked as she crossed her arms loosely over her lap. 

“Neville, Neville Longbottom, Milady.” He replied quietly. 

“Longbottom?” He waited for her to laugh; everyone did. He watched her face to see whether he could determine anything about the face behind the veil. Her eyes twinkled with unshed tears, and he realised that he hoped that she did laugh. Something about the shape of her eyes told him that they looked better smiling. “Isn’t that one of the great houses from Arda?” 

He paused for a moment before nodding, dumbstruck that she knew of his lowly house. “Yes, Milady.”

“What is a Longbottom doing as a gardener? I know that the Longbottoms are known for their healing and tinctures, but this is servants work.”

Neville looked around at the plants and the greenery around him as he tried to formulate his answer. Something about those steady grey eyes made him feel strange. 

“I prefer doing the work myself. I enjoy it” He justified. He couldn’t imagine not being about to do this for himself. 

“You enjoy playing in the dirt?” she asked, and her tone was slightly mocking. Neville felt his jaw stiffen but nodded. “You’ve travelled all the way from Arda to play in our dirt?”

“Yes, milady.” He replied coldly. “Now, if I may, I have work to do.” Neville turned to leave again after bowing slightly. He felt the sting of her words, suggesting that his work was demeaning. 

“I’ve offended you.” She muttered as she stood to follow. 

“No, Milady.” He replied, not waiting for her to catch up. 

“I have, I am often told that I can be unkind.” She looked down bashfully before looking back up at him. “I apologise.” She said matter-of-factly. 

Neville paused and looked at her. The confusion must have shown on his face as she tilted her head to look at him. 

“You didn’t expect me to apologise either.” He said nothing as he looked at her. He couldn’t help but think that she was the strangest Princess she had ever heard of, granted he had only ever read books about them. 

In the books he’d read, they always sounded subservient and obedient and frankly, boring. This Princess, in a matter of seconds, had managed to rewrite every book he had ever studied. He shook his head in response to her comment. 

“I mean it sincerely. I’m not able to talk to people much,” She leant forward as she looked around “I’m a closely guarded secret.” She pointed to the veil and rolled her eyes. 

“Is that why you were crying?” He asked. As soon as he said it, he knew he had erred. 

“I was not crying, how dare you suggest such a thing,” She said as her tone changed.

“Apologies, your-Milady.” He stuttered

“I was not crying. I am a Princess.” She said, and he could almost imagine her stomping her foot down adamantly. 

“You are, Milady.” He couldn’t help the smirk that appeared at his mouth but managed to turn before she noticed it. She certainly didn’t mention it if she saw it. 

“You may ask why I needed your handkerchief; I had something in my eye.” Neville started walKing again as he pulled out his hand sheers. “What are you doing with those?”

“I am doing servants work, Milady.” He couldn’t help it. The words slipped out as she came to a stop behind him. 

“I apologised for that.”

“You did, Milady.” He replied without turning. 

“Stop calling me Milady,” 

“Sorry, your highness.”

“Lord Longbottom, I have asked you a question.”

“Indeed, Mil-Your Highness.”

“Well?” She asked. He looked at her, and she had put her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer. Something about the image made him smile. 

“I’m about to cut back the shrivelfigs”

“The what?”

“Shrivelfigs, they are quite aggressive, and if I don’t cut them back, they’ll take over the hothouse, Zabini also requested some leaves for his stores.”

“I will observe” she concluded, but after a glance to his face added, “If I may?” He smiled and nodded. 

“As my lady wishes.” He bowed before leading her towards the plants. 

They passed the rest of the hour in relative quiet, the Princess asking questions now and again and Neville answering them where he could. He asked nothing of her even though he longed to know who put the tears on her cheeks. 

They were pressed close observing a fire seed bush seedling pushing a fiery stem out of the soil when a commotion could be heard in one of the neighbouring buildings.   
“That will be one of my guardians looking for me.” She said, and although he couldn’t see her face, he thought she sounded sad. He had to admit that her presence had been pleasant and unobtrusive as he worked. He looked at her and felt the full weight of her eyes on him. He straightened and looked down at her as he offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. 

“Thank you for your assistance, your highness.”

“If I were to,” she paused as if looking for the right words. “find myself in here again. Would that be alright?” Neville met that silvery gaze and nodded. 

“Of course, milady.” He said automatically before smiling “Your highness.” He corrected. 

"When are you working in here again?” she asked looking away again. 

A red flag shot up in his mind as he heard the question bounce around his head. Do not get too close; you will only get hurt. She’s a Princess. What are you thinking? 

“Probably this time next week.” He answered, his voice ignoring all the reasons he should be cautious. 

“Until next time then, Master gardener.”

He watched as she walked away, the dress clinging to her hips slightly as she disappeared. He stood for a while, staring at the place she had been while he felt the dread build up in his stomach. He closed his eyes and cringed before hitting the nearby wall in frustration. Once again, his mouth had gotten him into trouble. 

He turned around and continued with his jobs as he replayed the day in his head. He deserved whatever punishment was due. He should have ignored the noise, he should have turned when he realised who it was. He should have left to find other jobs to do. He cursed at himself until he had nothing more to say. He sat potting up some seedlings as his mind fell quiet until a small voice from somewhere deep said ‘You should have discovered the cause of her tears’ He stopped what he was doing again and cursed.


	8. Evil Forces

She rushed back into the castle walls and dusted herself down before heading back to her rooms. She heard some noise behind her and rolled her eyes. 

“Ah, Princess.” Came the voice, oily and insincere, as usual. “How lovely to see you.”

The Princess didn’t slow as the voice caught up with her. 

“Ah, Lord Zacharias, I heard you were at court. I was beginning to think that you didn’t wish to see me.” She replied curtly as she navigated the corridors deftly. 

“Oh, my apologies, your highness. Neglecting you was never my intent” He replied, and she fought down the urge to shudder. “I hear we are to be wed.”

“Indeed, What wonderful news” She grimaced at the thought. 

“Wonderful news indeed. Our fathers are currently in talks. It sounds like you will relocate to my hometown.” He smiled, and Pansy knew she looked at her death. 

“What brings you to court this time of year, we do not see you until the autumn under normal circumstances.” She asked as she ignored the needling. 

“Well, there lyeth the problem, Milady. These are not normal circumstances. I come with messages of great plagues sweeping through the countryside. Droughts and famine in other corners. There seems to be an evil force at work.” She watched as his eyes tried to penetrate her veil and felt thankful for its presence. 

“Well, that is indeed unfortunate. I’m sure that my father will send assistance and provisions to the areas worst affected by these awful malady’s to lessen the burdens on our people.”

“Indeed, Milady. However, I and others feel that until the root cause of this ‘Malady’ as you so rightly put it, is dealt with, then the misery for the outlands will continue.”

“I see,” she replied as she slowed down outside her rooms. “And what do you believe is to blame for such awful events?”

"Oh, my dear Princess, I have suspicions as do many others. Our poorest people at the edges of our Kingdoms have been suffering for near nineteen summers now. So that begs the question of what else has been around for as long?” He tilted his head and smiled. 

She prayed to the gods that one day she would be able to wipe that smirk from his greasy freckled face. 

“But enough of these pleasantries, I am expected with Lord Zabini shortly, I’m sure that I will see you at the feast this evening.”

She nodded and curtsied shallowly as he nodded his head and walked away. Her eyes followed him as she cursed the ground he walked upon. She shuddered at his tone as she pushed open her doors. 

The noise erupted over her as she pushed through the heavy doors as her ladies stood panicKing. They froze when they saw her before bowing low and simultaneously begging forgiveness. 

“Get up and get out. I wish to be alone.” She pushed past them without looking. The way she knew that they would sit there looking between themselves and then back to her would only make her angry. She didn’t want to be with people; she wanted to sit and think. 

She waited for them to leave and then waited to make sure she was alone. When she knew that she wouldn’t be disturbed, she let her walls crash down. As she did, she felt her heart pour out her eyes. She wasn’t sure which made her feel worse, the betrayal of her father, the engagement itself or the planning of her life and imminent death.   
She shook her head; she couldn’t process everything together. She lay down on her bed and tried to calm her mind. Hazel eyes flashed in her memory, and she found herself thinking about them. 

Lord Neville Longbottom. She knew a few facts about the Longbottom family, but mostly that his parents had died during the battle of the hollow. She wondered who had raised him. She wondered whether this role had been what he wanted from life. 

Watching him work and explain everything to her as he worked was a lovely experience. Having someone who wasn’t family was a nice change too. She found herself smiling as she thought about how he teased her and didn’t give in. She liked that. It was like a breath of fresh air. If Lord Zacharias had even an ounce of the personality she had seen in the gardener, then she wouldn’t mind so much at being married off and sent away. His looks were preferable too. She hadn’t realised how tall he was until he looked down at her, his hazel eyes looking directly into hers. 

She shivered and swore under her breath. The gardener was handsome; she couldn’t lie to herself. She had found herself staring at his large, capable, green tipped hands more than she should have, completely ignoring what he had been doing with them. 

She felt another sob rise out of her throat. Even if she were a normal woman, working in the kitchens or sweeping the grounds, He wouldn’t pay her a second look with this blasted mark on her face.

She knew that with this mark on her face, she was worthless to everyone. She rubbed her face as the tears fell like a stream down her face. No one would ever love her the way she wanted or the way she needed. 

~~~

The next week seemed to drag by as she tried not to think of the gardener. She couldn’t understand how he had become so lodged into her thoughts after such a short amount of time. Whenever she looked out of the window towards the gardens, she hoped to catch a glimpse of his tall frame and sandy hair, but the gardens always remained empty.

One morning she had woken and looked out upon the day and noticed a small sprig of Jasmine on her window sill. A bird could have left it on its way to build its nest, but she knew that Neville had left it for her. She smiled to herself and placed the sprig under her pillow. Her dreams had been sweet every night since. 

She occasionally caught a glimpse of him as he travelled between the gardens and Zabini’s rooms. She caught his eye once and noticed the blush that ran up his neck as he tried to hide a smile. She giggled to herself and smiled, luckily hidden by the veil. 

How could she be so affected? Yes, he was handsome, but he was also clumsy and awkward. But his hands were so skilled and able, and he was so kind and considerate. He trusted her not to call the guards when he spoke to her. 

But he being a low noble of little regard meant the odds against them were stacked so high that whenever she felt her heart swell and lift, she tethered herself down to the ground with her self doubt. 

He would never want you if he knew what you really looked like. You are mean, ugly and stupid. You are to be betrothed to Zacharias and will leave the palace. She scolded herself during her weakest moments, hoping that the spark of whatever-it-was growing in her breast would slowly wither and die. She knew that if she did leave and could see him again, the desire inside her would probably fade and die anyway.


	9. Never Mind Happiness

Neville knelt partially hidden in the bushes as he tried to rid the ground of the harmful bindweed that could strange a plant if left untended. The morning sun hit his back, gently warming his skin as he worked. He pushed the sheers back into his pocket as he felt sweat beginning to pool in the small of his back. The vines were proving to be difficult as he worked against the stubborn cords. He looked up when he heard the crunch of feet, only to find the Princess sat on the bench next to him. 

“Good Morning.” She whispered as she read her book. 

“Good Morning, your highness.” He replied, feeling his heartbeat skip a beat, the urge to reach out and touch her almost unbearable. He shook his head as he continued to work, hoping that his wayward thoughts would melt away and the tingling at his heart would fade. He could feel her eyes on him as he pulled at the vines. He sat up and wiped at his head, his eyes drifting to the Princess. Her eyes caught his before they looked back to the book. “Are you well, milady?” He asked as he picked up all the vine. He carried them to the wheelbarrow and added them to the pile. 

He turned and saw her look away and smiled. He wondered whether her eyes followed him n the same way his followed her. 

“I am as well as can be expected, Master gardener. And yourself?” She asked as she closed her book and looked at him. He watched her as he tried to gauge her mood. She sat there, legs crossed, and her body angled towards him. 

“As well as could be expected? That sounds,” He paused as he narrowed his eyes. “Alright, I suppose.” He shrugged as she pushed back into the bushes to grab the rest of the weeds.

She shrugged too and looked down at her book. Neville thought she looked sad but didn’t say anything. “Beautiful day,” He said, not knowing what else to say that wouldn’t be deemed impertinent. 

She nodded again as she continued to look down. 

“Milady, Please say something otherwise I’ll say something stupid and embarrass myself.” She chuckled at that and looked up at him. Her eyes glinted with unshed tears.   
“Do you do that often?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“More often than I’d like.” He said with a blush. It was far too close to the truth than he’d like to let on.   
She laughed again and shook her head. 

“I bet you’re just saying that to make me laugh.” She accused playfully. 

“Stay here long enough, and you’ll see.” He shook his head as he started to head back into the bushes. “I’ve been told that I’m clumsy” He smirked depreciatively as he leant down to grab another handful of weeds. 

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“As I said, Princess. Give it time.” He repeated as he trudged back to the wheelbarrow. 

“How much time do you need?” She asked and to his surprise he though she sounded flirty. He dropped the vines into the wheelbarrow and turned to her. He ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously when he realised that some of the vines had now lodged into his hair. The Princess laughed again as he tried to remove the suddenly tangled plant. 

“Obviously not as long as I would have liked,” He said as he finally removed it, his eyes tears as he pulled a few hairs from his head in the struggle. She chuckled and nodded.   
“I think you did that on purpose to prove your point. I remain unconvinced.” She said smoothly as she leant back, her lavender robes pulling enough to expose pale toes in leather sandals. 

“Have it your way, Princess, but I implore you to heed my warnings.” He chuckled. 

“So what are your duties for today?” He wiped at his head again as he thought about his day. 

“I’m in this garden until noon, and then I should be with Zabini studying Meteorology after supper.” He said before feeling his sheers slip from his pocket. He bent down to retrieve it and hit his head on the wheelbarrow handle. The Princess giggled again.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m as well as could be expected.” He smirked as he tenderly touched the lump forming on the rear of his head. 

“That sounds,” She paused, mimicKing his early response. “Alright, I suppose.”

They both laughed, “What are your plans for the day, Milady?” He asked as he fiddled with the sheers. 

“I thought that I would enjoy the sunshine and sit out in my garden and read. As there is a gardener taKing care of my garden, It would be rude not to appreciate it.”

“True.” He nodded with a smile. “Well I will try not to disturb you as I work, that is if you have no objections to me continuing to work in your presence?” He asked. He lifted his eyebrows in earnest, hoping she would say that she didn’t.

“I’m sure that we can share the space.” She bowed her head slightly, and Neville got the impression that her mood was shifting. “We are both fulfilling our roles, after all. It’s all they want of us at the end of the day.” She finished bitterly. 

Neville frowned as he rubbed his head. He wasn’t sure why her mood had soured but understood her annoyance.

“Duty can be a curse sometimes.” He said bitterly as well, thinking of his Grandmother and his home. 

“You sound like you speak from experience.” She asked as her grey eyes met his. 

“I was sent away by my grandmother, and I can only return home if I succeed.” He muttered as he dropped his gaze. 

“And what have you been told you need to succeed at?” She asked, standing. 

“Life, I suppose. She wasn’t very forthcoming. I have to test my mettle for family honour.”

She was quiet for a while as they stood there. 

“Whatever I can do to help, you have a friend in me, Master gardener.” He smiled grimly and nodded. 

“Thank you, Princess. Not that I have much power, you have a friend in me too.”

“I may, one day, ask a favour in return. When you set off for home, having succeeded in your undisclosed task, I may request safe passage on your ship.”

"Then you have it, your highness. Without question, safe passage to the destination of your choice.”

“Then, it is done. We have an accord. We will be allies and run away from this place together.” Her voice dropped.

“Where would you go?” Neville asked, trying to ignore the thrill in his chest. He paused for a moment and looked away before navigating them from such sad thoughts. 

“Anywhere.” She said with a sigh before turning around and flinging her arms out wide. “I suppose first we would have to go to your home and tell your grandmother that you had succeeded.” She shrugged and then laughed. “And then, I don’t know, somewhere far away, where no one knew me.”

“So you would leave the safety of the Kingdom?”

“If I thought it would mean my freedom, yes.” She answered. “I would walk through the Orez desert without water, barefoot if I thought it would mean my freedom.”

“But you’re the Princess,”

“What is that famous phrase? Never mind your happiness; do your duty.” She shook her head.

“Sounds about right.” He nodded. He sighed as he looked at the other flower beds. “Speaking of duty, I had better get on. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you, Princess, even if you only need someone to listen.”

She tilted her head again and nodded. 

“I will, thank you, Master gardener.” She lowered herself, gracefully back onto the bench and opened her book again. Neville watched for another heartbeat before he turned around to start work on the next flower bed.


	10. Between Nothing and Eternity

She reread the line, and again he distracted her. She glanced up and watched as his skin became shiny and his clothes clung to his body. As predicted, the many palace steps had done wonders for his figure, although she found herself feeling sad that he’d lost some of the softness. She saw the small of his back and the round curve of his rear and felt the veil suddenly become restrictive and warm. She shook her head and tried to read. 

She turned away from him slightly, changing her line of sight. She tried reading again. She got a bit further but felt eyes on her. She glanced up and caught his head turning from her. She smiled under the veil. Frustrated with her lack of progress, she stood up and wandered away from him. 

The sun was higher in the sky now, and its rays had burnt off some of the clouds, clearing the way between her garden and the valley below. She watched as the sea glittered like liquid diamonds. 

She sat down on the grass as she tucked her knees under her chin. She imagined what it would be like to sail away, Neville in tow. She had felt a tingle rush up her spine when she’d mentioned about them running away together. She hadn’t meant to say it, but she wasn’t sorry. 

She closed her eyes as she imagined those large hands holding her, carding through her hair and pulling her close for a kiss. She touched the material separating her lips and her gloved fingers and sighed. She wondered what it would feel like. To tiptoe to kiss him, splaying her hands against his chest; to feel his stubble against her cheek and his hair between her fingers. 

She let her thoughts linger in that golden moment before she opened her eyes again. If that were all she could ever have, it would have to do. She turned to watch him and found him wiping his forehead. The tunic had ridden up slightly, showing a small train of dark hair which disappeared into his breeches. She felt a furious blush burn under her skin and a different heat pool in her groin. She closed her eyes again and muttered a silent prayer to some celestial body to give her strength while in his presence. 

She hummed silently as she tried to pull herself together. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face when she heard soft footsteps close in. She looked up and was near blinded as he stood above her, the sun blotting out his face. 

“Sorry,” He said as he knelt beside her. “I thought you might like these.” He said as he offered her a small bouquet. She took them gently as he tripped over his rushed explanations. “I had to take some cuttings, and it seemed a waste, and I thought you might like them, you always wear blue and the colours of the purples were so similar, and I know that you have a lot playing on your mind.” He paused a took a breath as if he knew his mouth had run away. He smiled before speaKing again, slower this time “I just thought it might make you smile. Your eyes are even prettier when you smile.” He paled as he realised what he’d said. He blinked as his gaze dropped to the flowers and then back to her eyes, uncertainly. 

Pansy stared into those hazel eyes and fell even further. Those eyes that reminded her of stories of forests in autumn. Golden, green and brown. She wanted to run headlong through feeling the fresh autumn air caress her skin. Golden, green and brown eyes that had come to mean so much to her. 

Her face and neck tingled in delight, and she shivered. No one had ever given her flowers to brighten her mood. No one had told her she had pretty eyes. No one had taken the time to read her emotions in her eyes. She looked at the delicately coloured pink and purple petals and sniffed. Their scent was just as delicate and sweet as the ruffled petals, like lavender, grapes and honey. The aroma was intoxicating in its fragility. 

“Thank you” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. 

“You’re welcome, My lady” He whispered back as his eyes caught hers again. They stared at each other for a while as though the distance between them was both nothing and eternity. Like a moonrise, both millions of miles apart but touching within that moment, embracing each other until gravity prised them apart again. The way he said ‘my lady’, made her feel like the only woman in the world. 

She looked down, severing the connection between them, gravity pulling her away. She longed to look up and reconnect, but she couldn’t bear it. She could already feel the pull on her heart, like gravity as Neville cleared his throat and stood up. “They’re sweet peas,” He added before clearing his throat. He bowed and turned to continue his duties, glancing back before leaving altogether. 

Pansy admired the tiny, butterfly-like petals and wondered whether Neville had been educated in the language of flowers as most noble families were. She closed her eyes as she inhaled their scent; her thoughts drifting to the blissful pleasure that the meaning of the flowers promised.

She sat for a while longer, eyes watching the shimmering ocean while her mind travelled to places further than any ship could reach. Something about the man seemed to awaken something dormant within her, stoking fires that burned long and deep. Her whole body felt like it was singing when he was close. She craved him, unlike any need she had ever known. As though he was hers and she, his. 

She pushed herself up from her seated position and returned to the bench for her book. Neville crouched on all fours pulling at the ground beneath the bushes, his tunic riding up his broad, strong back. She licked her lips as her eye drank him in. He straightened and wiped the sweat from his head again. 

He looked at her and smiled. She loved that crooked, depreciative smile. If it had been anyone else, Pansy would have thought he had orchestrated it, but Neville’s eyes were sincere as he smiled and nodded to her. 

She nodded back as she clutched her book and flowers to her chest. His eyes caught the movement as they darted from the flowers to her eyes and then away again. Something about the action made her think that he did indeed know the language of flowers and the true significance of sweet peas. 

She met his eyes one last time before retreating into her rooms, feeling the weight of his eyes on her as she disappeared from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the language of flowers, The victorian Interpretations of the sweet pea is as follows: During the Victorian times, giving out sweetpea means “thank you for the lovely time”. It can also mean blissful pleasure, departure or goodbye.


	11. Lords of Misrule

He cursed himself as he almost dropped the pot again. He couldn’t seem to get his head into what he was doing. It was like walking around in a fog where the only clear thing was her eyes. Since that morning in the Princess’s garden, his mind had been unable to focus on anything else. Like flowers to the sun, his eyes searched for her; sought her out, craving just another sight of her mercurial gaze. 

He saw the back of her robes a couple of times and wanted to run after her and make sure she was alright. But he remained steadfast as he tried to ignore her. He’d seen her once while she had been at her window. He remained still as he trimmed the Wiggentree bush and just watched her. Her eyes were so pale that from his vantage point they looked almost as grey as the clouds that lingered around the walls. They took his breath away. 

What struck him most was the length of time that she remained alone. His heart went out to her as he waited for someone to break her isolation, but no one came. 

Neville did something that night that he knew was forbidden, but he couldn’t resist. While he tackled the rest of the garden, he left another sprig of Jasmine on her windowsill. The following day she caught his eyes as he was walKing to his training session with Zabini, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that came to his face. Her gaze filled his face with heat and made his heart flutter. 

Zabini had noted his strange behaviour and when questioned Neville had tried to put it down to feeling under the weather. He attempted to control his heart, but every time he saw her, he thought that his heart would inflate and carry him away. He couldn’t wait until they met again. 

~~~

Finally, a week had passed, and he stood inside the hothouse, trying to make his jobs last as long as possible in the hopes that he would see her again. She had said that she might visit and just that slight chance of seeing her made the time drag and his thoughts wander. 

He found it strange that after such a short space of time, he could be so enamoured with someone. The same thing had never happened back home. 

He wondered what she looked like under the veil, whether she was deformed as he’d heard other people claim. He didn’t think it would matter what she looked like; He didn’t believe he would care. He enjoyed the banter they’d shared while she watched him, the playful teasing they both seemed to enjoy. He was confident that even if she were utterly deformed beneath the material, he would think her the most beautiful of all ladies.

He thought about the one feature that he could see. Her eyes! He had never seen a colour like them before. Like quicksilver, or the lining on a cloud. So pale but so deep and full of emotion. He felt embarrassed to admit it, even in the privacy of his own mind, but he longed to feel their weight again. Wanted to have their attention and see them warm to him. He longed to see the corners crease when she smiled. He craved their gravitational pull as he revolved around her. 

Pain erupted in his shoulder, wrenching him from his thoughts. He reared back with a gasp as he looked around to find the source. 

“So, this is Zabini’s new stooge?” Came a voice from the far side of the hothouse, by the door. 

“This is he, A noble-born apparently.” Came a snort from over his other shoulder. He turned as was met by a sallow-faced man with pale blond hair. His smirk seemed to be a permanent feature on his long face. 

“My lords, You shouldn’t be in here,” Neville said as another stone pot caught him in the shoulder. He staggered back as the pot crashed at his feet. 

“He may be a noble-born, but he’s a filthy Ardanian. They’re as good as slaves.” Came the other voice. This youth seemed younger and broader with a darker complexion. “Look at his hands, Filthy Earther!”

“Disgusting, do you not know how to wash?” 

Neville stood between the two men as he waited for his confusion to fade. He didn’t know who these men were nor why they were in the greenhouses. 

“I must insist, My lords, you are not permitted into these hothouses, they are for the healers.”

“You hear that Terrence?” Asked the horse-faced lord. “These greenhouses are for the healers. Wasn’t it a filthy Ardanian healer who treated your mother?” The blond man stepped closer without looking at his colleagues. 

“It was, She died from blood poisoning no more than a day later. That retched Ardanian killed her.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but you really must leave,” Neville said. He could feel his panic rising as the two men closed in on him. 

“He doesn’t sound very sorry, does he?” Asked the Lord called Terrence, as he flicked his black hair away from his face. 

“Not very sorry at all. But then again, he didn’t know his parents. Probably a relief to his parents.”

Neville felt his hands clench as he took a deep breath. It wasn’t a new insult, nor was it original. He had heard it before and fighting never solved anything. 

“Get out.” He growled before a plant pot caught him in the face. He reeled back as the pain exploded in a blinding, white light behind his eyes. The pain was immediate as his whole cheekbone cracked. 

“Do not talk up to your betters. You are no more than a servant here,”

Neville gripped his face as he tried to look at them. 

“What do you want? There are no valuable plants in here, and as you say, I am no better than a servant, certainly no one of interest to you.”

"Valuable plants? Are you calling us thieves? Someone ought to teach you a lesson in manners.”

Something else flew through the air and caught him in the head. Once again, his vision flashed, blinding him momentarily as the pain overwhelmed his senses. He felt like he could smell the colour red. He touched his head and grimaced as his fingers came away wet. He needed to get out of here before they did some serious damage. He blinked away the pain as he tried to find the door. 

“Come back here, worm.” One of the lords cried as he stumbled away. Another, sharper blow caught him in the right kidney launching him forward. He staggered, wanting to puke as the world span. He felt his arm brush something as he fell to the floor and felt someone land next to him with a cry. Without a doubt he knew who it was he’s knocked as the flowers recognise the sun. 

“Princess, Are you alright?” One of the lords asked as he rushed forwards. 

“Guards,” The other called as Neville blinked against the blood and pain. 

“What is going on?” She asked, and Neville could hear the anger in her voice. 

“We saw it all, your highness. This serf forced you to the ground. Don’t worry; he will be dealt with.” 

“Arrest him. He assaulted the Princess.” One of the lords called from behind him. Strong arms suddenly gripped him, hauling him to his feet and then dragging him away.   
“Stop, he didn’t-” He heard the Princess protest. 

“I didn’t, it was an accident” he tried to explain. “I wouldn’t” 

“Take him away. He touched the Princess and pushed her down. He must be punished by order of the King.”

Neville tried to see the Princess, but blood poured across his eyelids, leaving him temporarily blind as he was propelled forward. His body throbbed and ached as his stomach churned with panic. The pace never let up as he was half-dragged through the corridors. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Came a voice out of the darkness. 

“Prisoner attacked the Princess” came one of the guards replied. 

“Impossible.” Came the voice. It was Zabini, he was sure of it. 

“There are witnesses, my lord.” The guard replied. 

“And the Princess was pushed to the floor with blood on her robes when we arrived,” said the other guard. 

“I didn’t” Neville groaned

“Why was he bleeding?”

“Don’t know, milord.” Said the guard 

“We are taKing the prisoner to the cells, and then the King can decide what is to become of him.”

“Neville, I will see what I can do,” Zabini said as the guards pulled him away. “Remain hopeful.” 

Neville stumbled again as he was pulled through a doorway and away from Zabini. He felt his heart drop as he thought of the Princess lying on the floor. What if he had hurt her? What if the blood wasn’t his? He didn’t think he could cope if he had hurt her. He deserved everything he got.


	12. Filthy Lies and Bloody Robes

The floor was moist under her as the morning dew soaked into her robes. She looked around and watched as Neville landed on the ground next to her. She opened her mouth to speak when she noticed the blood pouring down his head and face, closing his eyes. His face was already starting to swell where injuries had already occurred. She opened her mouth to say something when Lord Zacharias and Lord Terrence came out of the hothouse behind him. Their eyes met and she watched as his angry face broke into an evil smile.   
“Princess, Are you alright?” Lord Terrance asked as he rushed forward. 

“Guards,” Lord Zacharias called as his eyes bored into hers. 

“What is going on?” She asked as she fought to keep her own anger and panic from spilling out. 

“We saw it all, your highness. This serf forced you to the ground. Don’t worry; he will be dealt with.” Zacharias grinned as the guards arrived. “Arrest him, he assaulted the Princess.”

They trudged over and grabbed Neville, hauling him to his feet as blood dribbled from his face. She opened her mouth again to explain as they started to pull him away.   
“Stop, he didn’t-” She tried, but none of the men listened as Neville stumbled, propped between the two soldiers. 

“I didn’t, it was an accident” he tried to explain. “I wouldn’t” She felt her heart tighten at the words and could hear the regret in his words. She tried to push off the ground, to rush after him but Terrence knelt beside her, effectively blocking her. 

"Take him away. He touched the Princess and pushed her down. He must be punished by order of the King.” The guards nodded as they turned and dragged Neville away. A few moments passed as She sat the and watched after him, her mind trying to catch up with what had happened. 

“You despicable son of a goat.” She said darkly as she stood. “You attacked that poor man, didn’t you?”

“Now, my betrothed, what business is it of yours?” Zacharias said with a slimy smirk on his face. “You weren’t meeting him, were you? That could get both you and him in a lot of trouble.”

She felt her eyes narrow as she stared at him. 

“I don’t know what business you had in the hothouses; however, I will make sure that my father hears about this.”

“As will I, your highness. I was passing by the hothouse when I heard you scream. You were on the floor, and that revolting Ardanian had his hands on you. I fought him off and called the guards, Lord Terrence will confirm what I am saying.” Terrence grinned as he stood from his crouch. 

“Filthy lies. My father will see through your words.”

“Actually Terrence, She wasn’t crying to stop him, was she? Now that I come to think of it, they seemed very cosy together. Maybe we disturbed an illicit rendezvous?”

“I think you may be right.” Terrence agreed with a grin.

Pansy’s mind went blank, as she considered the meaning behind their words. 

“You will not get away with this.” She said through gritted teeth, but she knew that she had no witness and no one to support her story. She had headed there to meet him, she liked his strange northern accent and the way his stained hands worked so skilfully. She had wanted to be alone with him. 

“Now, shall we retire and prepare for dinner?” Zacharias asked as they started to walk away. Terrence grinned again as the departed, leaving Pansy standing in the grass with blood down her robes. 

She felt a settling sense of dread in the pit of her stomach as she tried to figure out what to do. There was no way of being able to explain what happened without her admitting to why she had been here, and everything else would make her look guilty of much worse crimes. Both she and Neville were in an awful predicament. 

She started to pace as she thought. Images of Neville’s bloody and beaten face flashing into her mind. She needed to do something. She felt the air leaving her lungs as the panic set in. She knew the punishment for touching her and couldn’t bear it if her father decided to follow through with it. 

“Your Highness,” Zabini said from behind her. She spun around and almost sobbed when she saw him. “Your Highness, what happened?”

“They-” She didn’t know where to start. She couldn’t breathe as the thoughts of what could happen ran through her mind. “He-” She tried between gasps. She heard her heart racing between her ears as the world narrowed down. She needed to tell Zabini before the world went black. She heard his voice distantly through the thunderous beating   
“Your highness, are you well?” he asked as he stepped closer. “You have blood on you, come to my rooms, We can talk there.” She said nothing as she gulped in the air, the darkness gaining ground across her vision.

She felt him guide her through corridors and felt the thud of her feet, hitting the ground between the beats of her heart. Once inside, he lowered her onto the examination bed and held her hands.

“Listen to me, your highness.” He said as he lifted and placed her hand on his chest and started to breathe. She felt the rhythm and tried to match. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, and the darkness receded. With a sigh of relief, Zabini sat back and looked at her. 

“Now, your highness, are you hurt?” he asked as he released her hands. She shooked her head as she pressed her hand against her diaphragm. She saw her hand come away smudged in red and felt her stomach roll in disgust as the panic threatened to return. 

“They hurt him, they pushed him over, and he knocked me down. but he couldn’t see, the blood was in his eyes.”

“Neville was beaten up before you got there?” She nodded and sniffed as she felt the tears come to her eyes. 

“His face was so swollen and red. He didn’t see me.”

“Who did this?” Zabini asked quietly as he took her hand. 

“Lord Zacharias and Lord Terrence,” She said. 

“And what were you doing outside the healer’s hothouse?” She hesitated not sure what the correct answer was. “I promise that nothing you say here will endanger yourself or Neville.” Zabini urged. 

“I went there to see Neville. But not like that. We’re friends” she added quickly “We met a week ago in the greenhouse. I was upset, and he was so kind and gave me a handkerchief, I was just returning it to him.”

“I see,”

“The Lords said that they were going to tell my father that he either assaulted me and then beat him. But then they said that they would say that we were being indecent together when they arrived.” She sniffed “Neither is true. You have to believe me, if not for my sake, for Neville’s.”

Zabini nodded and sighed. 

“I’m not sure what we’re going to be able to do. The King will want to execute, I may be able to talk him down to flogging, but either way, Neville will be punished for this. With the word of two lords against him, I don’t see that there is any other way.” He explained. 

She felt the panic well up again as she started to shake. There hadn’t been many executions or floggings in her memory, but the ones she had witnessed had been brutal enough to leave their mark. She had watched as the whip tore through flesh like parchment. The memory of it had never really left her. The thought of Neville going through the same punish was almost too much to bear. 

“They can’t flog him, he didn’t do anything wrong,”

“What proof is there, Princess?” 

“Please, the whip will rip him to shreds.” She cried as she felt the tears well up in her eyes. 

“I will see what I can do.” He said as he stood up. She followed as they both left the room. “Now, your highness. I want you to go back to your chambers and rest. There is nothing you can do for him now except make things worse. 

She nodded as she felt the tears escape down her cheeks. He took her hands and held them tightly as he looked at her with his deep brown eyes. 

“Please, milady. Try not to worry. I’ll pull out every trick I know to keep that boy safe. Now go on.” He said gently.


	13. Lashes and Lonliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title name suggests. This is what the tag was warning you about. Neville gets whipped. You have been warned.

He lay on the hard, cold floor and waited as he felt the stone leech the warmth from his body. Not even the straw couldn’t keep his body heat in. His cheekbone throbbed, and he was sure that the bone was fractured. The blood stuck thickly to his face where it had dried, making him feel dirty. His back was bruised, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The pain and discomfort he could tolerate, but above that, his pride was hurt. 

He had gotten himself into this position in a roundabout way. If he hadn’t been in that hothouse waiting for the Princess, he wouldn’t have encountered the lords. In fact, if he hadn’t found himself talking to her last week, he wouldn’t have been there either. But he wouldn’t have been able to see the light in her eyes as he gave her flowers. 

He gently pounded his fist onto the floor in frustration as he wondered what his fate entailed. Maybe the King would kill him. It was treason to touch the Princess, and if the gossip from the servants was anything to go by, the King was particularly strict when enforcing the punishment. He didn’t want to die, but he struggled to feel sorry for his short encounters with the mercurial-eyed beauty.

A noise roused him from his thoughts as he heard the swinging of an iron gate from somewhere within the dungeon. He tried to look around, but the blood had congealed around his eye, binding his eyelashes. His bound hands, unable to clean the muck away. The other eye was so swollen that he could only squint.

“Neville?” Zabini called, and Neville tried to sit up.

“Here,” he croaked back.

“Oh, look at you, what a state.” He felt the straw shift around him before fingers pressed to the skin on his face. He winced as they probed the damage, sharp pressure points of pain exploding across his vision. He groaned, and Zabini stopped. “I think your cheekbone is broken.” He concluded. Neville nodded slightly before grimacing. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Neville asked as he propped himself up against the wall. He heard the sound of water before a cloth was being placed against his other eyes. 

“I’ve certainly seen better.” Zabini agreed as he wiped and dapped the blood from his other eye. As the blood moistened and dissolved Neville let out a small sigh. It felt like such a relief being able to see the world again. Being in this situation blind had definitely not improved it. 

“Is the Princess alright?”

“She is fine, worried about you, though.” Neville could hear the disapproval in his tone. 

“Please don’t say it like that,” Neville begged. “I didn’t do anything. She was in the greenhouse, crying. When I discovered her, I tried to do as you bid, but she permitted me to speak. We’ve done nothing more.” He said defensively. “I never touched her,”

“I know,” Zabini confirmed as he continued to clean the wound on his head. 

“She’s so lonely,” Neville murmured, more to himself than to Zabini.

“I know” Zabini nodded again as he pulled back. “Now I want you to forget all that, I want you to understand that you will be punished, regardless of your innocence. I have tried to talk to the King, but I’m not sure how receptive he has been to my story. The Lords got to him first. The death penalty has been known before.”

Neville sighed and nodded as he swallowed the nerve down. 

“I understand.” His voice sounding dead as the dread plummeted to the pit of his stomach like a stone. 

“If the King decides that he wishes to be lenient, then it may be flogging or banishment from the city.”

Neville nodded again. He grunted as his stomach spasmed. If he were banished, he didn’t know what he would do, he couldn’t go home, and he had no money. 

He imagined roaming across the vast planes trying to sell the seeds and plants he gathered along the way and knew that he would probably die of starvation or dehydration before he earned enough for a crumb of bread. 

“So the best I can hope for is either the whip or the wilderness?” He sniffed humourlessly before hissing at the pain in his back. 

“Looks that way.” Zabini agreed, his face set into grim lines. 

“Well then, I’m not sure why I was so worried.” He replied sarcastically. 

“Indeed.” His companion agreed with a snort. 

“So why are you here?” Neville asked. It occurred to him that his mentor didn’t need to be here with him, but he was. 

“I will wait with you until the sentencing has been passed. Once that has happened, I will see what I can do.”

He paused and smiled into the darkness. It was more than he could have asked for, having someone with him in what could quite possibly the final days of his life. 

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

They sat and waited in silence for what felt like an eternity. The cells were silent except for the rats that scurried and snuffled through the straw. Neville closed his eyes, his mind wandering between thoughts of his life, his family and the Princess. He couldn’t be surprised that his life had ended up here. It was just his luck. Being clumsy and awkward always did attract bullies and being someone of such little consequence meant that his voice didn’t matter. 

He guessed that this would be a weight off his grandmother’s mind now. She wouldn’t have to worry about him shaming the family any further. He wished that he could’ve succeeded, just to prove her wrong. He thought of that glorious morning in the gardens when the Princess had talked of them sailing away together. He was sorry that he wouldn’t be able to help her escape. He was sorry for many things, words not said, deeds not done. He decided that he could say one last thing before it was too late. 

“May I ask for one more thing, if these are to be my final moments.”

“You may ask, but I promise nothing,” Zabini replied. 

“If I am to die, Please tell the Princess that I think she is beautiful, regardless of what is under her veil.”

“Neville.”

“I would tell her myself, but alas, you are here instead.” 

“Have you seen her without her veil?”

Neville shook his head sadly “No only her eyes. She has such beautiful eyes.”

The iron gate opened once more, and the guards walked in. Neville held his breath as they stepped closer. One of the soldiers produced a scroll which he proceeded to open. Neville wanted to close his eyes, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He needed to see this punishment head-on. 

“Lord Longbottom, you are charged by the King for assaulting his daughter. His Majesty has sentenced you to 100 lashes.”

Neville felt a slight relief knowing that he wouldn’t be banished before the apprehension of the lash dawned on him. The thought of taKing 100 lashes filled him with dread.  
“When is the sentence to be carried out?” Zabini asked. 

“Now my lord, We are to escort the prisoner to the courtyard.”

“The courtyard? Aren’t punishments usually held in the main square?” Zabini asked. 

“They are, my lord, but the King took into account your tale and decided to show leniency.”

There was a silence as the guards waited for Neville to stand. Zabini grabbed his arm and helped him up to his feet, he groaned as he felt the pain in his back as he moved.  
They took him firmly by the arms as they led him out of the dungeon. He tried to hold onto the relief of knowing that he wouldn’t be wandering the wastelands beyond the Kingdom, but with each step towards the whip, he felt the panic increase and overwhelm him. The idea of the tails biting into his back made his stomach churn. 

He had heard horror stories of people being lashed until the bone was visible through the skin. He felt his never falter but pushed forward. He was not a coward.

They entered the courtyard, and he was happy to note that there only seems to be a handful of people in the area. He scanned the faces and for a change was content not to see her silver eyes watching. His eyes caught those of the lords who nodded and smirked at him as he approached. 

In the centre stood a strange-looking frame of wood which Neville knew would be part of the punishment. Neville looked at it warily as he was brought before it. 

“Disrobe,” said one of the guards releasing his arms. He pulled off his tunic, baring his skin to the air. He shuddered at the thought of these people seeing him without his shirt on. Too many daisy cakes, his grandmother had said. Too many daisy cakes and a strange birthmark meant he felt exposed and vulnerable. His eyes met with Zabini as they tied each wrist to the frame. Zabini watched with concern as he focused on the tightness of the bindings. He felt them bite into his skin and was thankful for something to distract him as he was punished. 

He heard a gate close before the guard began to talk. 

“Lord Longbottom or Southfarthings. You are charged with assault upon the Princess, due to certain circumstances your sentence has been reduced from execution to 100 lashes.”  
Neville closed his eyes as he waited for the first whistle of the whip. He held himself tense as he waited. 

There. He heard it as it swooped through the air. He felt the swift sting and then the burning after streak as the whip was pulled away. He felt the air leave him in a hiss as he tried to prepare for the next strike. 

“One” counted one of the guards, loud enough for the twenty people in the courtyard to hear. 

Another whoosh, sting and burn and another guard shouting the number. He gritted his teeth as he tried to be somewhere else. 

Whoosh. Sting. Burn. If he could pretend he was somewhere else, he could pretend this wasn’t happening. 

Whoosh. Sting. Burn.

With every strike, he felt his mind drawn back from where it had been, always dragged back into the present to suffer the pain and embarrassment. 

At least the Princess wasn’t here to witness this.

Whoosh. Sting. Burn. At least the Princess wouldn’t see how ugly he really was, bared to the air. 

Whoosh. Sting. Burn. He hoped that she could forgive him. 

He let out a grunt as the whip hit him again. The pain seemed to intensify with each strike. The sting and burn now feeling like a slicing burn. His back was both on fire and frozen, which only increased the pain of each lash. 

Whoosh. Slice. Burn. It was probably around the fiftieth lash when he began to feel week in the knees. He gripped onto the frame, hoping that he wouldn’t faint or cry, both of which his body wanted to do. 

Whoosh. Slice. Burn. At the sixtieth stroke, he started to hear something going on behind him. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see. He just wanted to fade into the blinding white light that appeared between every strike. 

At his eightieth, he felt sick and dizzy. The pain radiating into every fibre of his being. He’d given up trying to move away from the strikes but still felt his body tense as he heard the whoosh. 

As they neared his hundredth, he felt the light get brighter and almost surround him. Slowly he felt the biting ropes at his wrists loosen, and before long, all of his weight was on his legs again. 

He felt the white light hover as the guards slowly walked him from the courtyard. It wasn’t until he was face down in a bed that the white light started to surround him. 

“Neville, can you hear me?” Neville blinked his eyes and nodded carefully. “I’m going to apply some ointment to your back, it will hurt.” He nodded again before his eyes fell shut. After that, he remembered nothing.


	14. Experimental Proximity

She let herself cry as she watched from the courtyard gate. She watched as his back got bloodier with each strike. She felt sick and hot as the skin started to puker. She refused to turn away from the sight though, if he had to endure it, then so did she. She heard him grunt in pain after a while and didn’t think she could bear it any more. She found her father and tried to get his attention. 

Her father was furious as she stepped up next to him. As she got closer, she could see the Nevilles skin, in ruins from where the whip had started to slice through the skin. She looked away and to her father. 

"Father, you know he is innocent, stop this, please.” She hissed into his ear. 

“I know nothing of the sort. He pushed you over, and so he will be punished.” The King muttered firmly. 

“He only knocked me over because he was blinded by a wound inflicted by Zacharia ad Terrence.”

“Be that as it may, you were struck to the ground. I cannot let that slide without some sort of punishment. 

“He’s been punished, please father. Make it stop.” She begged. 

“I cannot, daughter. He has been sentenced to one hundred lashes. I cannot now revoke that sentence. It will be over soon, and then we will talk further.” He replied as she glared at him. 

She watched as Neville sagged in the ropes and how he almost fell as they undid the bonds. She felt an odd sense of pride as he stood without help before the guard guided him away. 

Zabini was watching him intently as he gave the guards instructions. And then they were gone. 

Pansy stood there and watched as people left, muttering as they disappeared. She heard someone mention his chest, but she ignored them. She didn’t care what he looked like he was worth more than any one of the lords that had come to watch the punishment. As the lords descended the stairs, she felt sick to her stomach. As the Lords approached, she felt her blood boil with fury. 

“Not a bad show after all. Surprising really.” Said Zacharias as he stepped close to Pansy. “I, for one, would have thought that he would have cried or fainted. He seems the type.”

“I thought he’d soil himself.” Replied Terrance “I see that we were both wrong.”

“I have no words for how much I despise you both!” She growled 

“Now, now. That is no way to speak to your beloved.” Zacharias smirked. “Now be a good little wife and disappear from my sight.”

“Gladly!” She spat as she started to walk away. 

She heard them mutter behind her as she stormed off. She needed to see him; needed to make sure he was alright. She followed her feet, and before she knew it, she was at Zabini’s door. She knocked gently and waited. 

The door opened, and she was greeted by a distracted Zabini. 

“May I come in?” She asked, nervously as she waited for him to open the door wider. He stood and looked at her as though he had never seen her properly before. 

“Erm, yes for a moment, I could do with your help with an experiment I’m conducting.” She looked at him curiously but stepped past him as he opened the door wider. 

She saw the examination bed with Neville sprawled out upon it. Sweat had stuck his light brown hair to his scalp, and the blood had drained from his face. She started to run to him before she remembered herself. She slowed to a walk and was almost close enough to touch him when Zabini cried out. 

“Stop, don’t touch him, You’ll ruin the experiment.” She froze in her steps as she turned to look at him. 

“Right, Tell me how you feel, right this second.” He demanded as he watched eagerly. 

“I feel wretched. Look at him. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

“Yes, yes. But what are you physically feeling?” she frowned at the odd question but really thinking about it. “Are you experiencing any sort of physical sensations right now?” he rephrased before waiting for her response. 

“I feel sick and anxious. My heart is racing. My face and neck feel hot and flushed and slightly itchy, but I think that is because I was crying.” She explained as she pulled at her veil. 

Zabini waved a finger at her excitedly as he turned back to his books.

She turned back to Neville and peered closer. He had a fine stubble growing around his chin, and Pansy wondered how he would look with a beard. She stuffed her hand into her mouth as a sob tried to escape. She had caused this. 

She tried not to look at the bloody bandages and the red cloth to one side where Zabini had tried to fix him up. 

“Step closer,” Zabini demanded as he turned around to watch her again eagerly. She frowned but did as she was bid. “Now, Place your hand on his leg, make sure you don’t touch his skin. That’s very important. She frowned again as she reached out and placed her hand on his calf. She felt a blinding sensation as the heat around her intensified. 

“Now, what do you feel?”

Pansy struggled to get her words out, it was as though the air had turned to syrup. 

“It's difficult to talk, I feel very warm and uncomfortable.

“Aha!” He cheered as he turned to his books again. He started to write furiously as she stood there. She wanted to touch Neville’s hair, to see whether it felt as soft as she thought it looked. She tried to take a deep breath, but the air felt so thick that she struggled. She removed her hand from his leg, and immediately, the air cleared. 

She stepped back and sat on one of the benches as she pulled in a deep breath. 

“One more thing your highness. May I take a few measurements of your mark? I can assure you that Lord Longbottom here will not wake up and see you.”

“After what he has endured thanks to me, I couldn’t care less.” Zabini’s face softened, and he smiled as she removed her veil. She had to sit awkwardly as he poked and prodded her with his tools, but eventually, he had all the measurements he needed. 

“Thank you, your highness. I think I have everything that we need.”

“What have you found?” Zabini shook his head. 

“I’m not sure at this moment in time however I should be able to tell you soon. Now, you had better go. If your father finds you here, I don’t think even my influence would be able to spare you banishment or execution at this point.” He smirked as she stood. She looked down at the sleeping Neville and smiled. 

“Just take care of him.”

“I will you highness, have no fear. He will be safe until he is healed, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” She nodded as she left them, Zabini once again furiously writing why Neville snored gently into the cushion.


	15. The Sharpe Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sharpe Method refers to a series of books written by Bernard Cornwell about the Napoleonic wars. It was also a well know tv series starring Sean Bean as Richard Sharpe.
> 
> During this period in history, flogging was a common punishment within the British army. Several times in the series when a character is flogged, he is given a pint of rum, half to be drunk and the other half poured over the damaged skin on the back to disinfect it. 
> 
> As I am a rather large Sharpe fan, I wanted to include this small easter egg. Happy reading :)

He blinked against the lights as he lay in the unfamiliar room. His back felt tight and sore as he tested some subtle movements. He grunted as the bandaged tightened with his breath. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” Zabini said from off to one side. He tried to sit up, taking each movement gingerly as he straightened. He was surprised that he could move better than he had expected. “I patched you up as best I could, there may still be a few scars, but there shouldn’t be many.”

“Thank you” he croaked as he sat up. He felt self-conscious as he looked around for his tunic. Zabini sat in front of him with it folded on his lap. 

“I have your clothes here, but before I give them to you, I have a crucial question to ask you.”

Neville frowned and nodded. “Of course,”

Zabini pointed to his chest vaguely before speaKing. “The mark on your chest. How long have you had it?”

“I was born with it, so I was told.”

“Has it ever moved?” 

“Not as far as I know. I’ve spent my life trying to ignore it as much as possible.”

Zabini looked at him and nodded. 

“With your permission, I would like to remove the bandaged and examine it further.”

“If you must.” He nodded. 

Zabini stood and slowly began to unravel the bandages around Neville’s torso. Neville waited for the pain and the sticKing of the bandages to his wounds, but the sharp pull never came. He was pleasantly surprised when the bandages came away clean.

Zabini smiled as he followed his gaze “It’s amazing the power of phoenix tears. I use the Sharpe method, half for the belly and half for the back. Seems to have worked like a charm.”

Neville nodded, not knowing what the Sharpe method was but feeling thankful all the same. 

“Now, if I may?” Zabini asked, motioning with a pointy metal tool for Neville to lean back and allow him access to his chest. 

“It’s not that far down,” Neville muttered as he felt the sharp points push into his belly. 

“Are you sure?” Zabini asked with a smirk. Nevill looked down, and the mark had moved towards his navel.

“What?” Neville cried. “How?”

“I have a theory, but I need to take a few measurements first.” Neville nodded eagerly as he watched Zabini work.

After ten minutes of silence, Neville had to break it. 

“Have you seen the Princess?” He asked carefully. 

Zabini smirked and nodded. 

“Did you tell her what I said?”

Zabini smirked again and shook his head. 

“I didn’t think it would be prudent as I knew you were going to live. I thought you might want to tell her yourself.”

“Tell her? I thought I was supposed to keep away from her.”

Zabini finished and put down his tools. 

“Something tells me that no matter what I say, you will find yourselves drawn together.” He shook his head and stood up. Zabini started to put bottles back onto the shelves and books back into the bookcase. 

Neville wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed the most prudent to ask questions not related to the Princess. “So, am I all healed now?” he rotated his shoulders gently and felt a twinge of pain and some heat. 

“Not quite, You will still be sore, and the muscles under the flesh haven’t finished knitting themselves together yet. You will probably find yourself worn out and tired much quicker than normal.”

Neville nodded as he stood. A fine tremor travelled through his legs as they took the strain. 

“Sit down. You can stay here for a little while you gain some of your strength back.”

“How long was I out for?”

“About two days. The Princess visited you while you slept.”

He felt his face flame as he turned to Zabini in disbelief. Zabini nodded with a laugh as he put the final book away in his bookshelf. Neville covered his face with his hands, and he cringed at the thought of the Princess seeing him like this. He felt his self-doubt rise up as he thought about the extra weight he carried and the mark on his chest. He knew that he had managed to shed some of his weight, thanks to the steep stairwells; however, he couldn’t bear the thought of her seeing him like this. How could she stand to look at him?

“She stayed here for a while, I think she was waiting for you to wake up, I told her it would be a while, but she was insistent.”

“I wonder why.” He mutters self-consciously as he picked at a loose thread on his bottoms. 

“Don’t be so obtuse, Neville.” Zabini shook his head “I would say that it is painfully obvious why.”

“I'm not obtuse, why did she come?” he whined back. Even to him, it sounded petulant and sullen. 

“She likes you, boy!” Zabini smiled, kindly this time. “She wanted to make sure you were alright after the lashes.”

“She was just being kind.” He said, feeling his neck burn. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Zabini. 

“I don’t think so,” Zabini smiled knowingly as he turned back to his books. 

“Why? I thought that I was supposed to avoid the Princess? What’s changed?”

“In light of certain…facts,” he paused. “I believe that you would be well suited. Now, as you are at least partially healed. Let us continue with some of your training. I believe that your mind has been elsewhere over the past few weeks.”

Neville nodded and readied himself. He was determined to prove his potions professor, Snape wrong.


	16. Matrimony and Murder

Pansy wandered aimlessly through the castle as she felt her stomach churn with nerves. She felt a gathering, restless energy fill her feet as she tried to find something to occupy her mind. She kept thinking about Neville’s swollen face and bloody back as the whip marred his skin. She looked around and found that she had walked herself to the very same hothouse where it had happened. 

She peered in and saw Neville’s tools strewn across the floor as his jobs lay unfinished. Maybe she could help him by tidying up the mess. She felt a twinge of nerves as she thought about what her father would say at the thought of her cleaning. It was a servants job. She paused before she remembered Neville’s reaction when she had said the same. He enjoyed it. Maybe there was something to it that could calm her nerves. She sighed and set to tidying. 

It was the least she could do after the punishment he had received on account of her presences. She picked up the broken bits of pottery first before reaching for the broom. She had seen the maids using them often enough to know how they worked. She pushed the dirt clumsily off the path first before she got the balance right, then started to feel like she was making progress. 

Once the path was cleared, she moved the pottery pieces to the bench with the tools, she didn’t know what Neville would want to do with them. 

With the way cleared and the terracotta pieces off the ground, the place looked almost as it had before. The only thing left was a lonely looking plant that had been discarded in the altercation. She picked it up and looked at it. She knew enough about plants to know that the soil was much too dry for a plant to last long. She looked around for the water source. Every hothouse had one somewhere. A spring that fed the plants within. She stopped and listened and heard a faint, trickling noise. She smiled in satisfaction as she headed towards the source. 

Once there she found a pot large enough for the plant and dowsed it with the water. She turned to leave when she noticed some discarded vials by the pool. They lay on the ground, the blue glass shimmering in the daylight. She collected them up and carried them over to the bench and dropped them inside one of the broken pots. She turned and looked at the hothouse and smiled. Neville had been right, it had felt good and seeing it tidy again made her feel slightly better. She turned to leave when she almost collided with a chest. She reared back before glaring at the man before her. 

“Looking for your lover?” Zacharias asked smugly. 

“Not any more, apparently I’ve found him, my beloved.” She sneered as she tried to step around him. 

“If we are to wed, you will not have anywhere near the freedom your father allows you.” He tried to grab her wrist, but she pulled it out of his grasp. 

“Fear not my darling. If I have my way, we will not be wed long.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” The sallow-faced man asked.

She glared at him as she crossed her arms. 

“Ah, my beloved, I see that for once we are on the same page. When you’re my wife, I’ll poison your tea.”

“I’ll drink it gladly.” She growled. 

“Make a wish, and count to three, it may come true.”

She uttered a sound of disgust before leaving the greenhouse. She stopped and turned back 

“You shouldn’t be in the greenhouses. Get out.”

“Neither should you, your highness.” He replied “The Ardanian isn’t here. I hope he doesn’t scar too much, I’ve heard that women do so hate the feeling of flogged skin.”

“Say what you want, but I bet you’d have soiled yourself at half the punishment.” She sniggered as she turned to leave. A hand grabbed her wrist, jerking her back around. 

“You be careful what you say to me, you spiteful little mutant. If you were poor, you’d have been tossed out with all the other unwanted children to be food for the dogs. If we are to be wed, You’ll be lucky the same fate doesn’t befall you. Be nice to me, and I may keep you around.”

“How dare you touch me. I would rather be a dog's dinner than share your bed. You pathetic little worm. Now, unhand me!”

He let her go, and she jerked her arm away. “Get out of the gardens before I call the guards. You disgusting whoreson.”

She could see the white hate fill his gaze as he glared at her. She felt a quick flash of fear before she felt the anger surge up again. 

“You’ll regret that, Princess.” He spat as she turned away. 

“No more than our wedding day.” She shot back as she released a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. She turned and walked away.


	17. Hair Like a Raven's Wing

Neville pushed himself out of bed slowly as he felt his back begin to sting again. He couldn’t thank Zabini enough for patching him up, he just wished that the healing could be over. He sat up and took a deep breath before pushing himself up to get dressed. The skin on his back felt paper-thin and prone to tearing as he moved carefully around his room. 

He needed to get back to his plants, they were all probably bone dry after having been neglected for the last few days. 

Zabini had kept him in his rooms for the first night to ensure that the healing process had started correctly with no signs of infection, however, after that, he had been allowed to return to his own dwellings. 

His thoughts returned to the Princess over and over again as he replayed the events in his mind. She hadn’t returned to Zabini’s in the time he had been there. He felt silly for wishing it, but he had wanted to see her, to observe her actions. Zabini had been so certain of a return affection that he was scared to hope for evidence. 

He trudged slowly through the corridors as he neared the greenhouses. He felt slightly sick and out of breath by the time he reached them and hoped to sit down once he got there. 

As he pushed in, he felt the sweet, hot air surround him, causing sweat to break out on his skin. The place looked tidier than he remembered leaving it and was surprised to see that the shattered pots weren’t still on the floor. He glanced to his bench and noticed that there was a pile of broken pots. Someone had tidied up. He frowned in confusion as he tried to remember exactly what happened. 

He heard a noise and jerked around as he felt the skin on his back twinge. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Came the voice, guilt and worry mingled in as she moved closer. 

He hissed as he moved to sit down. The tearing pain stinging across his back in fine, scalding lines. 

She moved closer again, and he held a hand up to show he was alright. 

“I’m fine.” He lied as he waited for the pain to ease. He tried to breathe through the pain as hot lines burned into his muscles

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” The Princess replied.

“Nor I you, your highness.” He looked up at her and noted that her eyes looked red and swollen. He frowned. “Are you well, milady?”

“I’m fine.” He could hear the lie in her voice but ignored it. 

“What brings you here? He asked carefully as he waited for the sweat to pass. 

“I thought that the least I could do was help tidy up the mess so I came to do that and then I started watering the plants as I knew you probably wouldn’t be in to see them for a few days.”

He felt his heart swell at this unexpected gesture. 

“Thank you, my lady.” He looked around. “You did a fantastic job.” He nodded approvingly. 

“I did it all myself, I picked up the pots and put them on the bench, and I swept the floor too. I found some other things on the floor over by the well, so I put those safely in the pile too.” 

“you didn’t have to do that, your highness.”

“I know, but I felt so awful about your punishment that I thought that it would make you smile upon your return.”

“You were right, I was dreading bending down.” He laughed. She copied, and he thought it was the most extraordinary sound he had ever heard. He thought she smiled, so he smiled back as he looked into those startling grey eyes. His chest tingled, and his heart stuttered. How he had missed those eyes. 

“I’m sorry you were flogged.” She said finally. “It was wrong, I tried to get them to stop but they wouldn’t.” She looked down, and Neville swallowed. She’d been there. She’d seen him tied and bare. He closed his eyes as he tried to calm every nerve and doubt that wanted to scream out.

“I know that you were blameless for it.” He said as he felt the warmth of the wound slowly disappear to a gentle throb. “I’m sorry I knocked you over,”

“You were blameless too.” She replied. 

“Thank you, My lady. It means a great deal to know that.” She looked at him for a long moment. 

“Please, call me Pansy.”

“Your highness, I couldn’t,” He argued nervously as he felt a thrill rush through him. 

“When it’s just us, please. I do not want to be a Princess here. With you,” 

His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he took in her words. Maybe Zabini was right, he wasn’t sure. Women had never shown him any interest before. 

“I will try.” He smiled as he rubbed his head awkwardly. He felt the heat rush up his neck as he avoided her eyes. The air between them suddenly more intimate. “Please call me Neville.” He replied eventually.

“I will.” She looked away avoiding his gaze. He watched her and suddenly felt like he could ask anything. 

“May I ask a question your-Pansy?” He said the last quietly, almost reverently. She turned back to him, and he noted the sudden wariness in her gaze. 

“You may ask. I may not answer.”

“I wanted to know what colour your hair was.” He asked his blush deepening as he turned away as if he’s asked too much. It had been a stupid question. 

“You could have asked anything, and you want to know the colour of my hair?” She asked, and he could hear the smirk in her tone. 

“It was stupid, never mind.” He stood slowly and turned to focus on something but didn’t know where to start. He felt her step closer until she was almost touching his arm. He looked around and saw her looking at him tentatively. 

“It’s black.” She whispered. He smiled at the information. He looked into her eyes and felt caught in the silver gaze. He sighed and smiled. 

“You’re so beautiful.” The moments the words fell from his mouth, he clamped his jaw shut. His skin scorched as he turned around to hide his embarrassment. He felt her step back, and he turned to stop her. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. Sometimes I speak before I think. Forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” She said quietly as she turned to leave. “I have to go.” She muttered.

“Good day, my lady.” He called after her. Their eyes met again, and he could see tears shimmering in that pale gaze. She nodded before she turned and left. 

He swore under his breath. He was such an idiot. How could he have said that, to the Princess? He cursed again before turning back to his bench. He began to pick up the broken pots before throwing them back down again. He supposed he could use them as drainage for other potted plants. He paused as he gathered his thoughts. What was he doing? He had fallen head over heels for the Princess. He knew she had eyes the colour of quicksilver and hair the colour of ravens wings. He knew that she was kind-hearted and lonely. He knew nothing else about her, but he knew her. He was as sure of it as he was of a sunrise. I knew her with every fibre of his being, and his heart called out to her as though she was the piece he had been missing all his life. He knew he had ruined things. He had made things too real. She obviously didn’t feel the same way, and Zabini was wrong. 

His eyes ran over the neat pile of ceramics when his eyes caught something unusual. He peered into one of the almost intact containers. 

At the bottom lay a handful of blue, glass vials, empty and with their stoppers missing. He looked at them and frowned. These looked like potion bottles. He had a bad feeling about these. He needed to get them to Zabini at once. He pushed them into his pockets as he stiffly left the hothouse, wishing he’d never left his rooms.


	18. Like a Lamb to the Slaughter

Pansy lay motionless as she stared at the window as the swaying curtains allowed the occasional glimpse outside. It had been days since she’d left her rooms. Now that Neville was well again, there seemed no reason to push her presence on him in the greenhouse. She yearned to go and spend time with him, like an anchor tethering her to him. She felt a stray tear dribble down her cheek as she lay staring, hoping for a glimpse of him in her garden. 

The sun poured in as the fresh breeze felt soft on her skin. The material of her veil felt damp, where other stray tears had collected. 

Her heart felt leaden and heavy as her thoughts returned to Neville again. She replayed the words he’d said in her head and once again felt a shudder run through her. Why did the most beautiful words feel like a knife through her heart? 

She lay and imaged their future together and knew that they could be happy together, but it could never happen; The King would never allow it.

His words continued to repeat in her head. He thought she was beautiful. How wrong he was. If only he knew what was under her veil. She was hideous, and she knew it. He deserved better, so much better. 

Her heart had stopped when he’d said those words, like joy, could burst out of her like sunshine. But then reality had crushed her again. He couldn’t say those words if he knew what she looked like. The cursed Princess was a mutant. 

A noise came from further in her quarters, drawing her attention from the swaying curtain. She sat up as her door burst open. She opened her mouth to speak as the guards burst in. 

“Princess. By order of the King, you are under arrest.”

It took her mind a moment to catch up. 

“What?” She asked as she pushed off the bed. 

“By order of the King, you are under arrest.” The guard repeated. 

“Arrest? Why?” She asked as she stood to meet them. 

“Sorcery, your highness.”

She almost laughed until she saw that his face showed no sign of humour. 

“There has to be some mistake.” She explained as the stepped forward and took her by the arm. 

“No mistake, your highness. The King ordered us personally.” The guards walked her through her rooms, where her maids watched and muttered to each other. She felt shame fill her as she was pushed through the corridors. She felt the servants eyes on her, and hushed whispers followed her as she was herded toward the throne room. 

The room had always intimidated her as a child. The domed ceiling was so high that she got dizzy looking up. And the ground so large that it took so long to walk from one side to the other. As she was corralled towards the throne, she felt her insides churn like curdled milk. 

Her father sat thoughtfully in the throne, and bearly looked up as she approached. His skin seemed grey, and his face downcast as the guards stopped her before him.   
“Father?”  
“Silence cursed one.” Came another voice. She looked around and found Zacharias stood to one side looking smug. She glared at him before looking back to her father.   
“Father, why do the guards say I have been arrested?” She asked, stepping closer before one of the guards could stop her. 

“Because, daughter, your curse, which has been believed to have caused the maladies in the far off corners of the Kingdom, has now spread here amongst the hothouses.”

“As you have been visiting the hothouses recently. It came to our attention that the plants have started to die. Shrivel away to dust.”

She frowned in confusion. 

“What does that have to do with me?” She asked nervously feeling sick.

“your mere presence has soured the fruits and spoiled the roots. You are a harbinger of death and chaos” Zacharias announced as he stepped up next to the King. 

“Father. These are lies. I have been here for 18 years, and the plants have never failed before. Why would I curse them now?”

“Because you have come of age and grown into your power.”

“You are not King here, Zacharias.” She spat at him before turning to her father. 

“Please, father. Why are you doing this?”

“I have to, Daughter. I have no other choice.”

She closed her eyes and waited for her anger to fade. 

“What then, is to be my punishment?” She asked calmly. “Am I to be whipped until my bones show, Am I banished? What will you do with me, my lord?”

There was a resounding silence in the hall. Pansy waited for as long as she could bear. 

“Death by fire.” The King announced in a whisper “Burning at the stake.”

She felt fear grip her. She had seen deaths such as these and the screams had lingered in the darkest recesses of her mind. She felt her knees tremble as she felt her eyes fill. She refused to show weakness in front of Zacharias. She remained standing and ordered her legs to stand firm. 

“Death by fire?” she acknowledged calmly. “If that is to be my fate, so be it. When am I to be murdered?”

“It is not murder, it is sacrifice.” Her father argued. 

“I’m sure the lamb would agree, but I do not.” She said sharply. 

“You have twenty-four hours. A cell has been prepared for you.” The King said gently. He waved his hand, and she was pulled away. 

~~~

She sat on the cold flagstones and wondered whether it was the same place that Neville had occupied when he had awaited his judgement. She wanted to scream at the heavens for the cards that had been dealt her. She felt the fury burning like a red hot poker within her chest, and she held onto it, stoked it, made sure that the fire didn’t wane. If the fire went out, the fear would work its way in and would reduce her to a bubbling mess. 

She stood up, fuelled by her anger as she pulled off her veil. If she was going to be murdered for being cursed, then she would curse them by remembering her face. She would look at each, and every one of them in the eyes as the fire consumed her on the outside as it consumed her now from within. 

Knowing that she was cursed, her only wish was to see Neville one last time. To show him the real her and bare her self to him and fall upon his mercy.

A wave of sadness extinguished the fire within her as she began to cry. She fell to her knees as she cursed her father and the lords and herself. 

The gate to the dungeon squealed open as Zabini appeared. A sob erupted when she saw his face. He rushed to her and wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry into his robes.   
“Shush, milady. Do not cry.” He soothed as she sobbed. She felt his hands stroking her hair like one would and child. She cried for what felt like forever as he held her close.   
Finally, the tears had dried up, and the glowing embers of the fire sparked to life once again. 

“Thank you for coming, Zabini.” She nodded as she dried her eyes. 

“Of course your highness. I am your loyal servant.”

“I fear that you will be out of a job shortly.” She snorted as she pushed her hair out of her face. 

“I have a plan however, I have yet to talk to the King, he is refusing to see me.” He shook his head. “I am sure that I can resolve this if he hears me out.”

“I fear you waste your time. His ears are all for the Lords Zacharias and Terrence, and nothing you say will sway him from this course.” She stood and turned from him. 

“I will try until it is too late, milady. You deserve no less.” He stood as the gate rattled. “I must go, but I wanted to offer you some comfort.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She smiled 

“It is not my presence I offer. It is the final thoughts of a dying man.” Pansy turned to look at Zabini as she felt her heart in her throat. 

“When Neville sat here, waiting for his sentence, he thought that these moments were his last. He asked me to tell you this if he was to be killed. He said ‘Tell the Princess that I think she is beautiful, regardless of what is under her veil.’” She felt her throat close as the tears threatened to consume her again. 

“He would never say that if he could see me now.” She croaked as she fought for her control. 

“I would say it, and I can see you, milady,” Zabini said as she stepped closer. “Please take comfort knowing that I will try to save you from this fate with all of my power.” She nodded as the tears started to fall again. 

“Thank you, Zabini. I would ask the same favour of you. Regardless of your tireless efforts, I foresee that I will burn tomorrow. If that is to be the case, please, Tell Neville that his presence these last few weeks have meant so much to me. I have no words to express what he means to me and that I wish I was able to see him one final time.”

Zabini nodded and cleared his throat. 

“Please have faith in me. We will save you from the flames. I promise.”

Pansy nodded, but she didn’t believe him. What could he do against the might of a King? 

Zabini nodded again and bowed before leaving her alone. She took a deep breath and sat down again as she waited for her time to come.


	19. Vitapulvis

Neville stood and looked around the hothouse with despair. The plants were dying in every direction he turned. Their leaves shrivelling up and turning brown. He didn’t have any explanation as to why. The only plants not affected were the ones in pots. He stood looking at them as he tried to find something that linked them all. The only thing he could think of was that there was a problem with the water supply. The pots were fed by rainwater. He checked the well, and all seemed fine. 

“Neville?” Came a cry and he spun around, cursing when the searing pain returned across his back. Zabini rushed into the greenhouse, his robes billowing out behind him. 

“Neville. The Princess!” He shouted between pants. “To be executed in two hours.”

“What?” Neville shouted in response. “Why?”

“The lords have blamed her for the sickness in the plants. Blamed her curse.”

“But she’s not cursed,” 

“No, but people here are superstitious.”

“What can we do?”

“Those vials you gave me, I tested them. They contain Vitapulvis,”

“Vitapulvis. It’s a weak acid, but to plants, it would burn the plants inside out.”

“That would explain this,” Neville answered as he pointed at the dying plants. 

“We need to tell the King. But he refuses to see me.”

“We need to save the Princess. We can explain to the King later.” Zabini nodded. 

“How can we save the Princess? I’ve been trying to see the King since she was arrested yesterday. The King will see no one.”

“I don’t know, but we must do something.” He urged as she began to pace. 

The thought of losing Pansy was beyond imagining. 

“If we go there where the execution will be, maybe we can disrupt it and get her out?”

“That is probably the only way we’re going to be able to do it. She will be heavily guarded.” Zabini warned. 

Neville took a deep breath before hissing as the skin on his back stretched. He gritted his teeth as he ignored the pain. He needed to think.

“You try and speak with the King again, and I’ll go and see what I can do,” Neville explained. Zabini nodded as they left the greenhouse together. 

Neville pushed his sheers into his pocket as he tried to rush off to the courtyard. 

His heart raced, and his pulse throbbed in his veins as he forced through the stinging at his back. He refused to think of what could happen if he didn’t do everything he could now. 

~~~

It seemed to take forever for him to get to the square where the stake sat. He took a deep breath, and it dawned on him what he was about to do. 

A crowd had already gathered around the base, and most looked eager and interested. It made him sick at the thought of these people wanting to see harm come to Pansy.

Neville pushed through the crowd on his mission to the front. The logs were still being positioned as he broke through the front row of people. He could hear nervous chattering around him as he waited. 

It didn’t take long before the King took up his throne. Neville didn’t care as he watched for Pansy. The crowd noise increased until movement was seen at the edge of the courtyard. Neville lifted his head and watched as a woman was led towards the stake. Her hair was as inky as a writers quill, but her eyes were unmistakable. Neville felt his breath leave him in a whoosh as she came into view. 

She was stunning as she walked with her chin jutting out and head held high. He heard a gasp pass through the crowd as her face was bare. Neville could see the mark as it fell across her eyebrow and down passed her chin and neck. He shook his head as his mind thought to the mark on his own chest. 

They had so many things in common, so much time had been wasted hiding from each other. He looked upon her exquisite face and kept her gaze as she closed in. She saw him and her steps faltered. The guards forced her forward, and he could see that he had distracted her. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at him. He smiled as the tears welled up in his own. He watched as she searched his face for something, sighs of rejection? Revulsion?

He held his own head high and jutted his own chin out, determined to show her that he refused to look away from her. He watched as she fought to keep her face from crumbling as the guard walked her up the steps to the stake. He heard her hiccup as the guards started to tie her to the wood. He couldn’t bear it as she began to cry. 

He wanted to grab her and hold her and protect her from the world. He let his own tears fall without wiping them away. He turned to try and find Zabini in the crowd. If he didn’t act soon, it would be too late to save her. Zabini was nowhere to be found. Neville turned back to Pansy and watched as she stared around terrified as one of the guards lit the logs. 

Nevilles bounced on his feet as he looked around again. He needed Zabini now. 

The flames started to take hold of the kindling with frightening speed as the smoke began t billow out into the air. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears as he watched the wood start to catch. Pansy’s robes floated and ruffled in the air currents as he sobs because audible. He felt sick with urgency as his soul pushed him forward. Guards surged between them to stop him, but he managed to dodge them as he tumbled forward towards the log pile. He hissed in pain but pressed on as his back screamed in complaint. He looked up and saw the flames starting to spread. The guards began to pile around him when a voice called out over the din. 

“Stop” It was Zabini. Neville managed to use the distraction to scoot between two guards are their attentions were caught. 

“The Princess is innocent. The wells were poisoned.”

The crowd began to stir, and chatter as Zabini continued to talk. Neville paid him no heed as his sole focus was on Pansy and the flames. He shied away from the fire as he tried to pass the steps up to the stake. He could hear her broken cries as he neared. How she was able to stand the heat without screaming, he didn’t know. He tore at his tunic to wrap it around his face so that he could breathe. He pushed on and winced as the fire increased the temperature around him. 

He finally reached the stake and tried to loosen the ropes, but they were solid. He looked around for something to cut them with. He began to panic as Pansy’s screams started to rise. 

Inspiration flashed through his mind as he remembered the sheers in his back pocket. He grabbed for the and began to cut at the ropes. The smoke was starting to fill the air as he worked away at the thick strands. 

He was so close to cutting through the ropes when he was pulled away. He looked around to find Zacharias before him trying to pry the sheers from his hands. Neville saw red. He pulled the sheers from him and dropped them to the floor behind him. 

“She needs to burn.” He cried as Neville looked at him. 

“If she burns then so do we.” He growled as he pushed the horse-faced man. 

“I’ll not burn for a mutant!” He cried back as he pushed Neville. He stumbled and fell onto one of the logs. He cursed as his hand pressed to the embers. He managed to push himself off as Zacharia lunged again. Neville, Expecting the attack raised his legs and kicked out, pushing the Lord back onto the flames. 

The man’s screams, eclipsed the Princesses as Neville got up and continued to work at the ropes. He almost cried when they were free. He scooped up Pansy who had gone limp in his arms. He rushed forward for the steps and began to climb down, the Princess wrapped up in his arms. 

“Bring her back, She’s the sacrifice,” Zacharias called from the pyre.

“Guards!” Came the King's voice. “Seize him!” Neville felt his heart fall as he looked up at the smug look on the other man's face. 

The guards grabbed Zacharias and hauled him towards the King. Neville looked around in surprise before he looked down at the Princess. 

In his arms a beauty with skin the colour of fine porcelain lay, dark crescents of eyelashes pressed against the surface of her reddened cheeks. It took him a moment to gain his breath. He reached out and stroked her inky curls as the woman stirred. He smiled down at her as those sparkling grey eyes looked up at him. 

"Neville?” She croaked as she looked around. She raised her hands to her face and panic danced across her features. “Please. Don’t look at me. I am marked” She covered her face with her hands as she began to sob. 

“Princess.” He whispered. “look at me.” She shook her head. “Please, I need to show you something,” She opened her fingers to peek out. He smiled down at her as he pulled at his shirt. He watched as her eyes followed the lines of his neck down towards where the red splodge sat on his chest. Her eyes widened as her hands fell away from her face to pull at his clothes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked as the looked at the mark. 

“the same reason you never told me.” He smiled as he pulled her head to his chest as he had wanted to do almost from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. 

He looked down at her, wanting to savour every sight of her. Their eyes met, and Neville felt the draw of those mercurial orbs pull him in. He saw her pink lips and knew what he wanted. He pushed his face forward and pressed his against hers. 

The world moved as their lips locked. Something like a resounding click seemed to sound somewhere deep within his heart as his soulmate clicked into place. He threaded his fingers into her hair as he pulled her towards him. 

A quick flick of tongue touched his lips and had him dying for more. They pulled away slowly before opening their eyes. Neville gazed at her face and then did a double-take. The mark was gone, leaving the left side of her face as blemish-free as her right.

“Amazing.” He smiled as she looked up at him dreamily. 

“What?” She asked cautiously as he pulled back a moment. 

“Your mark, It's gone.”

“What?” She said in alarm. She felt her face and shook her head. “That’s not possible.” She looked down and looked at his chest. “So has your’s.”

“What? Really?” Neville asked as he pulled at his tunic. Pansy chuckled 

“Do you think we’ve broken the curse?”

“It was never a curse.” Came Zabinis reply as he neared them, his robes billowing out behind him. They both looked around and blushed, remembering that they weren’t alone. 

“If not a curse, what was it?”

“Let's just say the vengeful god didn’t spread you two far enough apart.” He laughed, his perfect teeth grinning like a cat. “You’ve found your counterparts, and you’ve claimed each other, essentially healing the wound. Take a look at your hands.” They both looked at their hands where their fingers were intertwined. At the base of their little fingers, a matching red ring surrounded the flesh, tethering them together. They laughed as they looked at their intertwined fingers. They hugged again, luxuriating in the feeling of each other.

“Daughter.” The King's voice called. Neville watched as she looked up, her face becoming cold and blank. She tried to get up, and Neville helped her. The King began to walk away as Pansy followed him. She turned and held her hand out to Neville. He smiled and followed, feeling the soft, pale hands in his calloused green tinted ones. The left the courtyard as the people watched on in silence.


	20. Life Debt

Pansy stood off to one side as she waited for her father to speak. She felt the burning fury within her chest as though she’d never left the stake.

“I understand that you are upset.” He said finally. She glared at him until he looked away. “But, as King, you sometimes have to do things that go against your own best interest.”

“Upset?” She asked quietly. She stepped closer. “Upset?” she said each syllable as though they were separate words. “One could say that I was slightly inconvenienced when you decided to set me on fire. You knew, KNEW, that I had nothing to do with the famines and droughts. But you did nothing.”

She turned around, unable to look at her father. She clenched her fists together when she felt a fresh hand wrap around hers. She looked up, and Neville stood looking at her with his deep hazel eyes, and instantly she felt calmer. 

“What would you like me to say?” the King asked, Pansy, caught the look of distaste on his face as his eyes met their clasped hands.

“I would like you to apologise at the very least.” Pansy snorted as she turned around. She gave Neville’s hand a squeeze before she let it go. “I want my life back. I want freedom and I want Neville.”

“Now, daughter, please.”

“No.” She said as she crossed her arms. “It’s not so easy to argue with me now that you can see my face, is it?”

“Daughter. Now that you’re whole, you could make a good match with one of the great houses from Seldnir or Lortme. Don’t throw your future-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She demanded as she held up her finger. “The reason that I am cured is because of Neville, and that is because we are soulmates. I care not one jot about the great families. Hasn’t the great family of Longbottom from Arda sacrificed enough?”

“But darling, he is an Earther.”

“Your Majesty. If I may interrupt.” Zabini said as he pushed away from the wall towards the monarch. The King looked sceptical for a moment before nodding. 

“I asked The earl of Southfarthing here to help me with my work. However, I had an ulterior motive. I knew Lady Alice. We fought in the Riddle Rebellion together. She told me of her newborn son, who had a strange skin affliction that nothing could cure. She enlisted my help as a life debt, and I have been searching for answers ever since. When your majesty employed me to aid your daughter with a similar skin affliction, it dawned on me, the myths could be true.”

“Which myths? About whole beings and vengeful gods? About being steered by fate? What utter tosh, speak sense, man!” The King waved, disregarding the healer's account. 

“And tosh it may be, but what say you about the lack of a mark on both Lord Longbottom and the Princess?” The healer asked. Motioning to the couple with his hands.

“Father. There is no other explanation.” She turned to Neville and offered her hand. He took it with a smile. 

“And what do you have to say? Lord Longbottom? What are your plans for my daughter?” The King asked angrily. 

“I have no plans currently, your majesty.”

“See daughter? No plans.”

“I have dreams and ideas, sir.” Neville stepped closer as she held Pansy's hand. She smiled at him, offering him encouragement. “It’s all so new and sudden that I know not what my plans are or what your daughter's thoughts are. Until we have been able to plan together, my plans are to remain by her side wherever that may be. I would like to marry your daughter.”

“Marriage. Of course, you would. And why would you care what my daughter wants?”

“Why wouldn’t I care, your majesty? If we were to marry, I would want her to be happy.”

“Father,” Pansy said, and that one word seemed to cut through the argument. Zabini and Neville looked at her before stepping back. Pansy walked forward and stood akimbo as she waited for her father to come to a decision. “It is the least you can do, as you had an innocent man flogged and an innocent daughter burned at the stake.” She growled.   
The colour faded from the King's face as he shook his head. He sighed heavily as he waved his hand.

“Very well. Have your talks, make your plans. Come back to me when you have decided what you wish to do. Meanwhile, If you would excuse me, I have a different execution to attend to. I’m assured that this one isn’t of an innocent man?” He asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

“Lord Zacharias is far from innocent.” Pansy nodded as the King left the room.


	21. Epilogue

The boat rocked back and forth, but this time Neville didn’t mind. His thoughts were elsewhere as his lip parted, and a sigh escaped. 

His hands pushed into her inky hair as he took her lips, the desire to claim her fully too strong to be denied this time. Her hands stroked his bare torso as they stumbled towards the bed. They almost tripped over their clothes as the ship veered, but with a chuckle, they continued until his back was on the bed. She looked down at him, her eyes like starlight as she smiled. That smile was everything, and he knew that he couldn’t have created someone more perfect. 

She bit her lip mischievously as she climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his waist. He watched as her hair fell into her face and gripped it tighter as he pulled her down onto of him. 

“I love you, wife.”

I love you too, Lord Gardener.” She giggled as he growled. 

She pressed herself against him and moaned as he claimed her mouth again. Slowly, agonisingly, torturously, she lowered herself until finally, they were whole again. 

The world exploded into colour as they held each other close, rocKing with the sway of the boat. Sensations rolling like the waves until finally, the waves broke. 

They panted together as Pansy lay sprawled across his chest.

“I love you, Husband.”

“I love you, My lady.” 

“How long until we reach Arda?” She asked between pants. 

“About two weeks, depending on good weather.” He said with a smirk. 

“Oh no, Whatever will we do to entertain ourselves?” She asked sarcastically as she pushed herself up to kiss him, touching his face with her palm. 

“I have no idea.” He smirked back as they cuddled into each other, finding a home in each other's arms. “And what then?”

“Well firstly, I want to see the look on your grandmothers face when you return home married. After that, we’ll have to see. I may like it is Southfarthings more than in Melanium.”

“Well, as promised, I grant you safe passage on my ship.” Neville grinned as Pansy rolled her eyes. 

“So now, let us sail far away and see what the future holds in store.

Pansy, who faced the King, faced the reign. Marked by fate to be reclaimed. To be owned by marks of destiny granted. Linked to Neville with the heart of the earth. The prophecy had been fulfilled and quietly and completely balance returned to the Kingdom as the land healed itself.


End file.
